


Teen Wolf But With Lesbians (Season One)

by Starfleet_Command_Unit_Bi



Series: Teen Wolf But With Lesbians [1]
Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-01-16 09:39:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 86
Words: 129,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21268943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starfleet_Command_Unit_Bi/pseuds/Starfleet_Command_Unit_Bi
Summary: Teen Wolf would have been so much better with lesbians. This is how the first season would have been different with them.





	1. Wolf Moon Part One

Rain poured down as the police cars approached the site, headlights beaming through the darkness. A woman screaming had been heard along with a man shouting moments before, and joggers discovered a pool of blood, already being washed away by the rain. Anything like that would prompt a call to the police and with everyone stressed about all of the accidents that had been happening, deer charging into cars and people, a bear attack, as well as the ominous setting of dark woods in the middle of the night, anyone and everyone had been called in to help. The search for anything that could help figure out what happened; more signs of blood, anyone involved and hopefully not a dead body.

Sheriff John Stilinski had been called in to head the search. He pulled up last, having been at home at the time, and was filled in with the specifics when he got out of the car. The joggers had been young, would be seniors by the next day, and were understandably stressed. They heard people arguing, a woman and at least one man, probably more, then a scream from the woman and something that could have been an animal attack. A pool of blood had been discovered, and the surrounding area showed evidence of some kind of struggle.

Not too far away, a soon-to-be-junior who the sheriff knew very well was getting ready for bed. His nerves were filling him with restless energy because of the first practice the next day It was a very slim possibility that he’d make first line of the lacrosse team, a severe asthmatic no matter how much he trained, but Scott McCall had always been an optimist. 

A noise sounded from outside, making his heart miss a beat.

There had been reports of animal attacks for weeks now, growing ever more frequent, that Scott was well aware of thanks to both the sheriff, who had to deal with the cases, and his mum, who dealt with the victims. No one had been attacked in their home, yet, but with Melissa working a night shift Scott was feeling a lot more paranoid than he normally would have done, exacerbated by his pre-existing nerves and jitters. 

Grabbing his baseball bat, the last birthday present his dad had decided to give him, something Scott had never actually used, he began slowly walking downstairs and to the front door. His asthma pump was securely in his pocket due to the very high likelihood of him needing it. But hopefully he wouldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, wouldn’t have to do anything involving a fight. Scott hated any conflict, it made his heartbeat double at the thought.

He walked out onto the porch, bat ready, when a form swung down right in front of him. Scott screamed like a baby. So did the person in front of him, with a very familiar voice. It was much easier to recognise his best friend when he wasn’t completely terrified and screaming from fright.

“Stiles, what the hell are you doing?” Scott demanded, angry at the other teenager. He knew for a fact they had first practice the very next day and Stiles decided to scare the crap out of him in the middle of the night anyway.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” Stiles protested, still hanging there somewhat awkwardly. It as an odd situation to be in. But not uncommon. Not when he was friends with Stiles Stilinski who decided times like the night before the first day of school was the perfect opportunity for adventures. “Why do you have a bat?”

“I thought you were a predator!”

“A pre-” Stiles began in disbelief. “Look, I know it’s late but you gotta hear this. I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called. They’re bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department.”

“For what?” Scott asked, already expecting a whole lot of bad stuff to come from this particular adventure. It wasn’t that he didn’t know that Stiles listened to all of the police phone calls but that he always picked the extra dangerous ones to be interested in.

“Two joggers heard an argument, then screaming, then found just this pool of blood. Expecting a possible homicide or at least attempted murder, ‘cause it’s a lot of blood. So they’re out to see if they can find a victim or attacker.”

  
Stiles jumped down.

“A person was murdered in the woods?”

“Probably.”

“And you want us to go towards the woods in which there is probably a murder victim and therefore probably a murderer still wandering around.”

“There is just a whole load of blood and signs of a struggle. Enough for there to at least be a body nearby or leaving enough of a trail for the dogs to be able to track an animal but they can’t find anything. Isn’t that cool? We’re going.”

The two climbed into Stiles’ jeep, getting ready to go and join the search, albeit secretly, when Scott had the strangest sensation that part of his life was about to change drastically by this choice. As thought it was going to completely impact his life, majorly, which was fair enough considering they were going out and looking for a possible murder victim whilst the murderer was most likely still in the area. It was a very stupid idea. But that was what being a teenager was all about.

  
  


<>

  
  


Laura was panting heavily as the gash in her stomach was dealt with. Derek was doing what he could to ease the pain but her entire stomach had been slashed open, running wide and deep. Alan and Marin were treating it as best they could, mostly washing away the blood to ensure that it was healing on its own as it should do. Peter was the kind of person to coat his claws in some kind of poison, not even lethal, just painful. 

“I think it’s in the clear now,” Alan sighed in relief, removing the most recent layer of bandages, lined with herbs, ointment and magic. “Keep it wrapped until tomorrow in case it reopens badly again.”

Laura nodded, not quite capable of words at that moment. Her uncle, the one who used to take her to the park when her siblings needed more attention from their parents and sneak her sweets when no one was looking, the one who she had thought was trapped in a coma, had attacked her, tried to kill her, to become the alpha. It hurt almost as much as the actual injury. Derek was looking betrayed, merging with his ever-present guilt, and stormed out of the room upon hearing the news that Laura would be okay in the long run. 

“I’ll go keep an eye on him,” Alan said. “Make sure he gets home alright. Take care, Laura, that’s a very bad injury.”

“He’s right, you know,” Marin said quietly once they were left alone. “It’s bad. As in scarring-level bad.”

“Are you saying you won’t find me pretty anymore?” Laura teased weakly, desperate to avoid talking about her problems for a few more moments.

“You know for a fact that I am  _ always _ going to find you gorgeous,” she reassured. “Which is why I know you’re stressed and freaking out about tonight more than you want to tell Derek and Alan. And we’re going to talk about it once you no longer have a hole in your middle. Okay?”

“Yeah. Love you.”

“I love you too. Let’ get home.”

The two slowly made their way to the car, Laura doing her best to put as little weight on Marin as possible whilst Marin tried to take as much of Laura’s weight as she physically could. It was an awkward walk but they got there. Laura was half asleep by the time she sat down but forced herself to stay awake for the duration of the relatively short journey. She knew she wouldn’t sleep at home if she slept before getting into bed. There was also the concern that if she fell asleep then, she wouldn’t be able to wake up for a week and doing that in car would not be good.

“Love you,” Laura repeated and felt her heart flutter in the usual way when she saw how Marin couldn’t stop from grinning at the words.

“Love you too. How are you doing?”

“In all honesty, baby, I’ve been better.”

It felt so good to hear Marin’s laugh, even the short and quiet one she’d just elicited. Laura took a great deal of pride in being able to make her wife laugh and did it whenever she could to make sure that it happened often. When Marin laughed it was like all of her tensions and worries completely vanished and reminded Laura of when they were teenagers, before their lives had become a clusterfuck of grief and loss. But she’ll never undervalue Marin’s importance in her life, nor how much simply having Marin around was enough, sometimes, to not let the grief completely drown her in the first few years.

“How the fuck are we supposed to deal with this?” Laura asked solemnly when they pulled into the driveway, her thoughts turning dark and morbid. “If Peter ever got better we thought our biggest problem was going to be him bitching that we didn’t know how to make decent coffee. But this? God, what if he bites someone? He’s still out there.”

“We’ll cope with it how we coped with university.”

“With crappy coffee and great sex?”

“That’ll probably help. I mean we’ll cope with it by doing it together-don’t laugh-and dealing with one problem at a time. And our biggest priority is making sure that you heal. Now come on, bed. I have to teach tomorrow and students are always the most annoying on the first day back. I mean, really, it’s a small town; most of them saw each other practically every day during the holidays. What could they possibly need to catch up on that desperately to talk throughout the whole day?”

Laura relaxed into her wife as she continued to talk on, knowing it was all just simple small talk to take their minds off the fact that Laura nearly died only a few hours before.


	2. Wolf Moon Part Two

Scott followed Stiles through the dark, growing less and less sure of his decision with each passing second. It was dark, it was late and it was probably dangerous. A horrible mix of potential problems that most likely would come up again in the worst possible way. Their best case scenario is that they spend an hour at most and go back home to be completely safe before school the next day because it turns out that nobody was actually murdered. What was most likely to happen was that the Sheriff would catch them being stupid and they would end up being grounded for a few months, minimum. The worst possible outcome was that the murderer found them and murdered them both, dragging their bodies somewhere to never be found again. 

“So where was this incident supposed to have happened other than just somewhere in the woods?” Scott asked, wheezing slightly as they continued.

“I, uh, I didn’t think of that,” Stiles admitted.

“And what if the murderer finds us, considering that they probably know about all of the police searching for someone and are on alert to try and stay hidden?”

“Didn’t think of that either.”

“Well, it’s nice to know you’ve applied your usual attention to detail to this,” Scott sighed, leaning against the tree to use his inhaler again. Stiles continued walking forwards. “Hey, maybe the severe asthmatic should be carrying the flashlight, huh? Stiles?”

Suddenly the sounds of barking dogs and shouting policemen came, with people rushing towards Stiles, asking him what the hell he was doing out in the middle of the woods, at night, all by himself. Scott was wondering very similar questions about himself but chose to remain hidden. The policemen looked like they belonged to the Beacon department and the sheriff had already been called down to investigate meaning that Stiles wouldn’t get into very much trouble, if any at all. Scott was also still struggling to catch his breath.

“Hold on there, this little delinquent is mine,” a familiar voice called out, coming to grab Stiles’ shoulder and shake him just the tiniest bit. “Do you listen into all of my phone calls?”

“No, no,” he protested lamely before giving in. “Not the boring ones.”

“Where’s your usual partner in crime?” the sheriff asked, looking around the place carefully. “He must be around here somewhere?”

“Who? Scott? He’s at home. First day of school tomorrow, practice, you know? Just me, out here in the woods, searching for a possible dead body, all by myself.”

“Scott!” John started shouting. “Scott! Scott!”

There was no reply. 

“See, not here.”

“Come on, then, young man. When we get home, you and me are going to have a very long talk about invasions of privacy.”

Scott waited a few minutes before beginning to walk home, his hoodie pulled up over his head to block out the light rain. He had his inhaler, a new one, and the sheriff hadn’t gone on about the dangers that Stiles had exposed himself to so the woods probably weren’t too bad, not as bad as he had feared. It was just a bit of a long walk that he wasn’t thrilled he actually had to do in the rain, in the middle of the night. Just as he was beginning to distract himself from the effort of walking and remembering where he had come from, a strange sound came from behind him.

He twisted round suddenly to be confronted with a small herd of deer charging in his direction. One caught him and Scott went tumbling down a hill, feeling every small stone and pebble smash hard into him, collapsing into a heap in the dirt. He coughed, unable to feel his inhaler in his pocket and worried that it had gotten lost, when he was suddenly aware that he wasn’t as alone as he had thought. Someone or something was staring at him, watching him, and Scott felt fear shooting through his body, making his breathing worse.

Something shot at him and pain seared in his side, making Scott run blindly to wherever he could get away from his attacker. Where that was ended up being a road, just as a car was barreling past, only barely avoiding hitting him as it swerved to the side, not even stopping to check if he was okay. With nothing else in eyesight, he risked stopping to look at his injury. The light of the full moon was enough to vaguely make out a large bite mark in his side with blood seeping through the broken skin. It was painful, very painful, but not agonising and not enough to stop him from getting home, albeit slower. 

A wolf howled in the distance and Scott shuddered involuntarily. 

After an hour of walking he finally made it home, sneaking quietly inside to avoid waking up his mum who would be terrified to see him come home in the middle of the night sporting an injury like the one he had. And would then kill him for being that stupid and for listening to Stiles’ stupid plans again. All Scott had to do was take the medical kit that was kept in the cupboard under the sink and patch himself up. He worked at a veterinary. He had patched up bites before hundreds of times. And on himself, though it would be much more difficult, he could do it. 

The bite had stopped hurting so severely by the time he got to his bathroom and lifted up his shirt again. There was no more bleeding, thankfully, but it was still an angry colour of red and still an open wound in his side. Scott poured the disinfectant onto the wipe and gingerly began dabbing at himself, hissing as it stung. 

  
  


<>

  
  


Laura jolted up in bed, just as her and Marin were about to drift off, her eyes glowed bright red in the dark room and she breathed heavily for a few moments, heart racing. Everything around them was still, the blinds closed to keep out the light from the full moon, but adrenaline coursed through her veins as if getting ready for a fight. 

“What’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?” Marin asked, sitting up and pulling her wife in for a hug. “Is your stomach hurting?”

“No, no, I … I think Peter bit someone. I can feel something, like how I can feel him and Derek, sometimes. Oh god, this is such a mess. The police get called and Peter creates a new, untrained beta. It’s going to bring hunters back here, isn’t it?” she asked, looking at Marin helplessly.

“It might, it might not. But, if it does, we will be ready for them. We aren’t going to let them hurt anyone else, I promise. Given that the police think someone might have been killed tonight, I doubt there were many adults walking around so it was probably just an idiot kid. I can keep an eye on all of the students tomorrow and Derek can go looking whilst  _ you _ rest in bed until you feel better.”

They fell asleep wrapped in each other, and woke up with the sound of the ringing alarm. It took a lot of convincing for Marin to keep Laura in bed, listening carefully whilst she showered in case the other woman tried to get up. Since it was the first day back, Marin had to be there earlier than she usually was earlier than anyone wanted to be in, and she kissed her wife goodbye sweetly, promising a call at about lunchtime. Laura looked lost in thought.

“You still in there, babe?” Marin teased.

“Yeah, just thinking. Cora would be a sophomore now, wouldn’t she? Alex would be a freshman. I don’t think I’d thought about it until now,” she admitted, sadness clouding her eyes. “You know they never found Cora in the house.”

“And I also know that we never found her anywhere else, no matter how hard we tried,” she reasoned, like she had every time when they discussed the missing Hale. It was logical to accept that the child had died in the fire, just as it was logical for Laura to struggle to accept it. “I love you, okay? I’ll be back soon. I’ll even pick up pizza for dinner.”

“You know the way to a woman’s heart, Mar, you really do.”

“I know the way to your heart, and that’s the only one I care about.”

“I’m melting, truly.”

_ How are you feeling? _ Derek texted her about an hour later.

_ Like someone tried to tear me in half last night, but a little better. You’d better have been nice to Alan when he found you last night, he didn’t have to do that. _

_ I was, don’t worry. I think Peter bit someone last night. _

_ I know. Marin thinks it was probably a student. She’s going to keep an eye on everyone and since I’m on bed rest you need to go around looking. Preferably not creepily, the police probably still think there’s a murderer around and I’d like it if you weren’t arrested.  _

_ There was an inhaler and I could smell someone distressed with Peter around where I found it. Tell Marin to check for a kid with asthma. At least they won’t need the inhaler anymore. _

_ No they’ll just get to deal with murderous impulses and no longer being human and hunters for the rest of their life. Not exactly a fair trade, Derek. I’ll talk to you later. _

She had her laptop on the nightstand, her work waiting, but Laura had a nap instead. As much as she argued against it she knew she needed to rest and her injury would take a very long time to get fully better, even with werewolf healing. If there was a new Beta she needed to train and take care of, she needed to be healthy as soon as possible. And to not leave them with Derek and Marin, who could be a little too intense at times.

_ Derek said he found an inhaler around where they were probably bitten, in case that helps. _ She texted Marin.  _ Please tell me there aren’t too many students with inhalers. _

_ There are a lot of kids with asthma at this school and even more have inhalers for other reasons. Even Alan’s assistant Scott has one, he keeps a spare one in the office for the kid. It’s been the most common medical condition at the school for about five years now. _

_ Fascinating. Also irritating. _

_ I know. I have the meeting now, but I’ll call you at lunch and text you if I find anything. Love you. _

_ Love you too. _


	3. Wolf Moon Part Three

The bandages and painkillers did their jobs, Scott thought as he slipped on his shirt, wincing slightly at how the movement aggravated the bite. If it got too bad during the day he could always ask his mum or Deaton to take a look at it and hopefully not have to answer too many questions about why he went out with Stiles to look for a dead body in the middle of the night, before school. The car was gone when he glanced out the window, that was nothing new, his mum had always worked long hours, and it meant he didn’t have to be careful about hiding how he acted. Melissa would have worried too much anyway and he didn’t want to add any additional strain on her. 

Riding his bike was surprisingly easier than Scott had initially expected with the whole painful injury thing and he thankfully didn’t need a puff of the inhaler he had lost. That would have been a catastrophe to say the least. People were already on their way to school, walking alongside the road that Scott cycled past or driving and narrowly avoiding killing him. No one really seemed to notice the lone cyclist. Most people didn’t cycle to school. The ones who lived far away enough to need cars could normally afford them and for everyone else they could walk easily.

Scott pulled into the school parking lot, aiming for the bike rack. As he was locking up, a car, a familiar Porsche, pulled up, the door knocking into him roughly. 

“Dude, watch the paint job,” Jackson said threateningly. Before Scott could defend himself or, more likely, could be focused on by the bully any more, someone else called over to him. Jackson didn’t leave without one more dirty look. 

Stiles had texted him to meet by the entrance to the main building, to discuss what had happened. He had said it was safer for Scott to cycle to school instead of giving him a lift because the Sheriff probably knew that Scott was out there the night before. Scott mostly understood the logic, plus he had to get to work, and he couldn’t ask Stiles to drop him off, not with the veterinary being on the other side of town.

“Okay, let’s see this thing,” Stiles said as Scott walked over, familiar childish delight in his eyes at the prospect of something exciting and gory. Scott lifted his shirt to reveal the bandage, blood having already soaked through it a little bit, meaning he would need to change it soon. “Oooh!”

“Yeah,” Scott agreed. Stiles reached out to touch it and he jerked away. “Whoa! It was too dark to see much, but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf.”

“A wolf bit you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“No, not a chance.”

“I heard a wolf howling,” Scott pointed out, trying to forget how it had felt to be all alone with something that felt like a monster. A monster that was calling specifically to him. 

“No, you didn’t.”

“What do you mean, no I didn’t? How do you know what I heard?”

Stiles scoffed. “Because California doesn’t have wolves, okay? Not in like sixty years.”

He avoided asking how his best friend knew that, knowing Stiles had probably fallen down a Wikipedia rabbit hole after his meds had worn off one night, and instead thought back to the howl again. It had definitely seemed like a wolf, but a deranged one, an angry one. 

“Really?” he asked instead. Stiles didn’t often like to talk about those research nights, they were usually not his finest moments of deduction. Scott had many times before woken up to thirty texts explaining the exact intricacies of some random historical fact and the very limited link it had to something in modern day times. 

“Yes, really. There are no wolves in California.”

“Well, if you don’t believe me about the wolf, what do you think it was?” Scott asked.

Stiles got distracted. “It can’t be anything as amazing as the birth of Lydia Martin. Hey, Lydia, you look … like you’re gonna ignore me. You’re the cause of this, you know?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Dragging me down to your nerd depths. I’m a nerd by association. I’ve been scarlet-nerded by you,” Stiles complained just as the bell rang, the two of them walking into class. Scott refrained from mentioning Stiles’ obsession with Star Wars, of which he owned a considerable amount of memorabilia, and his aforementioned Wikipedia rabbit holes. 

They settled into English class, Scott sat just a row in front of Stiles, if they sat too close they distracted each other no matter how hard they tried to stay focused, and the teacher began to talk. Understandably, no one was paying much attention.

“As you all know, there indeed was an incident in the woods last night. And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened. But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody, which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining this semester.”

Various groans filled the room at the mention of school work. Stiles looked as surprised as Scott felt at the mention of a suspect, and Stiles tended to know everything about what happened at the police station, through his dad and total lack of understanding of boundaries. Scott began to skim read the page, English had always been one of his favourite classes even if he didn’t always like the teacher, and the reading was never a difficulty for him. A loud phone began ringing from somewhere hurting his ears from how shrill the sound was. He flinched and looked around for the source, noting that no one else had seemed to even notice what was going on. Teachers tended to have a sixth-sense for it and even he hadn’t noticed. 

Scott glanced out the window and saw a girl talking on her phone and rummaging anxiously through her bag. For some reason he could hear her as clearly as if he was sitting right next to her on the bench. 

“Mum three calls on my first day is a little overdoing it,” she said. There was a pause as she got a response, something that Scott couldn’t hear. “Everything except a pen. Oh my god, I didn’t actually forget a pen. Okay, okay, I gotta go. Love ya.”

A teacher approached and began talking to her, something about how her family had moved from San Francisco, and then they were approaching the door to the classroom. The girl was gorgeous, if a bit nervous, and it was clear that everyone was welcoming the break in work that her arrival brought, even if they didn’t care about her specifically. 

“Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome,” the teacher introduced. Scott felt a strange pull to her. It wasn’t a crush, he’d had enough of those to recognise the feelings, but it felt like there was some part of him saying that she would be an important part of his life. 

The only available seat was behind him and she hurried to sit down, probably not enjoying the stares she was being given. As she was settling in, her remembered what he heard from the conversation, what he thought he heard from the conversation. Turning around, Scott offered one of his pens out to her. Her face was confused at first, it would be strange if she wasn’t confused even if Scott had been right, but she lit up with a relieved smile. 

“Thanks.”

“We’ll begin with Kafka’s Metamorphosis on page 133.”

<>

Laura had lasted a solid hour after her nap before she picked up her laptop to do some work. Nothing important, nothing that would be awful if she messed it up, but she hated waiting around and relying on others to do work that, realistically, was her responsibility. She was the Alpha of the pack, a larger pack than it had been the night before, and a new Beta should always be trained by the Alpha. They had the most experience and the ability to subdue them if they lost complete control. Marin could easily handle herself, especially against an untrained Beta, but she still worried. Laura supposed that was love. 

Derek had nothing new to report about his trip around town but Laura wouldn’t be surprised if there weren’t a few ‘suspicious person’ calls to the police during the time she had been asleep. Subtlety wasn’t one of Derek’s skills, no matter how much he thought otherwise. 

_ Any luck? _ Laura sent out to Marin. Her wife didn’t have a class until second period and would probably enjoy the chance to have a break from the monotony of setting up her classroom.  _ Derek hasn’t found anything helpful yet. _

_ Not yet. I haven’t seen any students yet. Only a couple of absences but those are from students whose parents called up about the flu or similar things, no one going to the hospital with animal bites. What we’ll probably get is someone just immediately snapping and getting into a fight. At least that way I’ll get a good chance to talk to them. _

_ Teenagers are always the most unstable. _

_ Human or otherwise. _

Laura let out a laugh, sounding a little strange in their empty bedroom. It was weird talking to Marin whilst she was at home alone. When they weren’t working, they spent most of their time together. Admittedly, Marin was at work so the sensation probably wasn’t as strange as it was to her. 

_ Do you like the look of your timetable for the semester? _

_ It’s not too bad, thankfully. A few very early appointments but I don’t doubt that most of those will be rearranged within the month. Did you at least take a nap or are you working? _

_ I had a nap and now I am working. So it’s the best of both worlds, really. Just paperwork and stuff. I don’t want to strain myself too much. But if you think I should rest I probably shouldn’t be on my phone either. _

_ Like you could stay away from me. _

_ Never. _

_ I’ve got to go, Finstock’s here. I love you. _

_ I love you more. XX _

_ XX _


	4. Wolf Moon Part Four

Scott was waiting by his locker, knowing that Stiles was about to join him, and saw Allison approach her own locker. They shared a brief smile, she recognised him from English class, which was better than the rest of the school most of the time, before Lydia Martin approached. Lydia was in Scott’s maths class and, despite her pretending to be a complete airhead around people, was a literal genius. Every teacher knew it even if the rest of the students didn’t.

“That jacket is absolutely killer,” she said by way of introduction. Her eyes took Allison up and down, causing the other girl to blush slightly. “Where’d you get it?”

“My mum was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco,” Allison replied, responding a little more to Lydia’s appreciative looks. Lydia and Jackson had broken up a couple months before, surprisingly amicable from the sound of it, and neither of them had dated since. Allison’s arrival would be changing that. 

“And you are my new best friend.”

Scott smiled to himself, hearing the conversation much clearer than he really should, but ignored it. He very much doubted that Lydia had friendship on her mind, that was probably a back-up plan, but it was a good way to get her to continue to talk to her. 

“Hey, Jackson,” Lydia smiled as the other boy walked over. Scott instantly flattened himself even further into his locker. It was instinctive at that point to try and avoid Jackson, especially with lacrosse practice right after. He would never make first line if he pissed off the captain too much. And Jackson could throw balls hard and didn’t mind hitting people with them if they annoyed him. Scott knew that from first hand experience. 

“Can someone tell me how new girl is here all of five minutes and she’s already hanging out with Lydia’s clique?” a girl asked them. Scott recognised her from the educational support group Stiles was forced to go to and Scott went to after bad asthma attacks. The Losers Group as everyone else called it. 

“Because she’s hot,” Stiles said, as if that explained everything. “Beautiful people herd together.”

“So, this weekend,” Lydia said, breaking through to Scott again. “There’s a party.”

“A party?”

“Yeah, Friday night,” Jackson told her. “You should come.”

“Uh, I can’t. It’s Friday night this Friday. Thanks for asking.”

“You sure? I mean, everyone’s going after the scrimmage.”

“You mean like football?”

Scott knew Jackson was going to laugh before he even heard it. For some reason, no one in Beacon Hills really cared about football. There was a decent basketball team, a fairly okay soccer team, that weren’t too popular but were supported. The school didn’t even have a football team. No one wanted to join it.

“Football’s a joke in Beacon. The sport here is lacrosse.”

It sounded pretentious even to Scott, who had grown up with it and loved the sport. 

“We’ve won the state championship for the past three years.”

“Because of a certain team captain,” Lydia added, looking pointedly at Jackson as she said it. 

“We have practice in a few minutes. That is if you don’t have anywhere else-”

“Well, I was going to-”

“Perfect,” Lydia interrupted, looping their arms together. “You’re coming.”

Allison was all but dragged to the field but Scott thought she looked quite happy at the contact of Lydia. The thought of practice was bold in his mind but it took him a second to remember why. Stiles was still talking to his friend, something about the next mandatory meeting of Losers Group the school was making them go to, and also had not realised. 

“Stiles, practice!” he reminded him, the surprised look on his face comically.

“Crap, crap, let’s go, I’ll see you later. God, Coach is going to make us do suicide runs if we’re late on the first day. I hate suicide runs. They make me want to kill myself.”

“I think that might actually be why they were named,” Scott said. They raced down the corridor, Scott finding it much easier than he expected. Usually that stressed and running without much warning set off an asthma attack. He had never breathed easier.

“No running in the hallways,” Morrell reminded them as they raced past. Her voice was bored, saying it only because she had to and knowing that no one really listened to it. Scott slowed down a little bit anyway. She was Deaton’s half-sister, and he didn’t want Alan to think that he was becoming a delinquent, not if he might have to explain his injury later. Morrell was looking at him strangely, almost as if she knew what Scott was thinking.

“Scott, you having an asthma attack or something?” Stiles called over his shoulder. “The nurse has a spare inhaler, if you need it, but we need to go.”

“Apparently you have practice to get to, Mr McCall,” she told him firmly, amusement in her voice but her eyes were empty of it. “Go on, and I’ll forgive you the running.”

“Thanks.”

<>

“Hey, you alright?” Laura asked as she picked up the phone. She couldn’t imagine any reason why Morrell would call her at the end of the school day, especially if she was going to be home in an hour or so. There had been no new developments in by lunchtime.

“Yes, fine. You remember how I said Alan’s assistant had an inhaler?”

Laura’s heart dropped. She didn’t know the kid but Alan and Marin had mentioned him a few times. Alan was considering training him to be a druid when he got a bit older, had started putting things in place to begin the training, and all of that was about to go out the window. The gentle introduction to the supernatural world was gone, instead Peter had thrown him in the deep end without any help.

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know yet. He was running past with the Sheriff’s kid, the one that was walking around the woods last night. And apparently he doesn’t have his inhaler on him which is mandatory by school policy, so he must have lost it.”

“It’s really not sounding good. At least we have Alan who he trusts. Can you ask Alan if he’s working tonight and we can check then? I can send Derek; he’s still sulking around the woods.”

“It’s lacrosse practice today, it was why he was running.”

Laura had played lacrosse. It was a good way to get out some of her aggression without needing to be as careful as she was normally, and she could use some of her abilities more often. An untrained Beta who had just been bitten, with no idea what control even was, yet alone how to anchor himself, could cause a lot of problems, to himself and others.

“This isn’t good, is it?”

“No, probably not,” Marin sighed. “I’ll keep an eye on practice and I’ll ask Alan. We’re going to have to catch them soon, it’s a full moon this Friday.”

“I know, I know. And hunters are in town. Apparently they’ve got a kid.”

“Yep, Allison Argent. I’ll keep an eye on her just in case they’re using her.”

The Argents were a very well-known hunting family. Laura could still remember the lessons her mum had given them, the pictures of bodies burned into the back of her mind, and the thought of them in town again made her shudder. Derek was even more on edge. Peter, if he had any sanity left, probably saw them as an opportunity. 

“I’ve got to go, if I want to see anything happen.”

“Okay, I love you.”

“I love you too. I can pick up takeout on my way home tonight if you’re interested.”

“Very interested, yes. You’re the best.”

When the call cut off, Laura thought over what she had been told. The name had always been familiar when she heard it, but she had never been able to figure out why that was. A spark of inspiration hit her. Reaching under the bed, she brought out a dusty box. It was full of things that had been in storage at the time of the fire. Part of the contents were her parents’ yearbooks. Flipping through the book she found a teenager with the last name McCall, someone named Rafael whose ambition was to join the FBI, who was linked to another teenager called Melissa, a heart drawn in the middle of their line. Laura’s dad had always been a hopeless romantic. 

The only people in the book who knew about the supernatural were all dead, minus one. Natalie Martin, a banshee with thankfully weak powers. Laura couldn’t imagine how awful it would be to always be aware of death. She had helped her parents with problems when they were young, was consulted when the Nemeton was cut down and had no problems with the concept, and Laura had never met her before. Her daughter had been in Cora’s class, Laura remembered suddenly, remembering the two girls had had various playdates when they were very little. 

_ I might need you to go to Alan’s work tonight. _ She texted Derek.  _ We think we might know who Peter bit. Alan’s assistant. Marin’s going to check some more things before we know for certain. Are you still on the preserve? _

_ Yes. _

Laura didn’t need to check if he was still sulking, apparently.  _ Do you still have the inhaler? It might be a good clue to help us figure it out if Marin can’t tell from the lacrosse practice. _

_ Why would someone with asthma be trying out for the team? _

_ Because they have reasonable ambitions, dick. If you are going to Alan’s work, I’m going to need you to be a lot nicer to the poor kid. He will have no idea what’s happening to him and he probably won’t trust you at all. That means be patient. We won’t tell him until we know for certain.  _

_ I know. There are hunters around. They don’t like bitten wolves. They could use him against us. A bitten wolf is enough of a reason to consider us threats. _

_ Peter is the threat, not us, and they can have him. I’ll do everything but directly help them if it stops him being anymore of a problem.  _

_ What’s the kid’s name? _

_ Scott McCall. Do not stalk him, I’m warning you Der.  _


	5. Wolf Moon Part Five

Scott hurried out onto the field, feeling his nerves mounting. All he wanted from this school year was to make first line, to be able to play in games, actually contribute to the team. Stiles was complaining about it again, still not thrilled about his ambitions for the sport.

“But if you play, I’ll have no one to talk to on the bench!” he pointed out, ignoring that they weren’t technically allowed to talk on the bench during games, because it annoyed Coach. “Are you really going to do that to your best friend?”

“I can’t sit out again. My whole life is sitting on the sidelines,” Scott complained, getting frustrated. He wanted more. “This season, I make first line.”

He caught sight of Allison and Lydia sitting on the benches, the two of them studying the playing field. Their eyes met and they shared a brief smile before Lydia drew her attention to whatever Jackson was doing on the other side of the pitch. 

“McCall!” Coach yelled. He was always yelling for some reason, even when teaching Economics. “You’re on goal.”

Scott caught the equipment, filled with disbelief. “I’ve never played.”

“I know. Scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost. It’s a first day back thing,” he explained dismissively. Despair filled Scott even more. He wasn’t even being given a chance to earn first line, at this point. “Get them energized! Fired Up!”

“What about me?” he asked.

“Try not to take any in the face.”

With that very unhelpful advice, Scott put on the goalkeeper’s uniform. It always looked heavy when he saw people wearing it but it didn’t feel too bad once it was strapped in place. Like a walking backpack, it was designed to put as little weight on him as possible. He walked into goal, knowing that this would be humiliating. 

“Who is that?” he heard Allison ask, surprisingly loud to his ears.

“Him? I’m not sure who he is,” Lydia replied, as if they hadn’t been in the same maths class they’re entire lives. Another knock to his confidence. “Why?”

“He’s in my English class.”

The whistle blew and it was so painfully loud. Scott collapsed to the ground from shock and pain, wondering how no one else was reacting the same way. It was awful and he writhed a little bit unable to cope. When the sound stopped, he heard laughter instead. Somehow, that hurt more. 

A player went forward and threw the ball. 

Scott was so distracted, it hit him directly in the face, knocking him back down to the ground. A literal knock to his confidence apparently. 

“Hey, way to catch with your face, McCall!” someone heckled unkindly. Stiles shot him a mostly unsympathetic look, seemingly feeling the pain that Scott was in. His friend was familiar with humiliation as well. 

The second player went up and threw a ball. It was as though everything slowed down, giving him as long as he needed to catch the ball. Movement was easier, swifter and stronger than he had been in previous practices, and his side wasn’t even hurting anymore. It must have been adrenaline rushing through him. It landed in his stick neatly, to the surprise of everyone on the pitch. Literally everyone. Scott would have been offended if he wasn’t also surprised.

“Yeah!” Stiles cheered excitedly, proud.

He continued to catch each of the balls thrown at him, finding it easier and easier as he let go of his nervousness. Scott found himself reacting faster than he thought he could with each movement. Tracking the arc of the balls and just knowing he would be in the right place to catch them. He understood why the better players were so proud of themselves all of the time. It was a massive ego boost. Scott didn’t let himself get too cocky, knowing what it felt like to be hit in the face. 

“He seems pretty good,” Allison pointed out.

“Yeah, very good,” Lydia replied appreciatively. 

Other students were cheering, Stiles the loudest of them all, and Scott felt himself completely relax. That went out the window when he saw Jackson getting ready, looking prepared to murder Scott with a lacrosse ball. He didn’t doubt that the captain was capable of it. Jackson trained terrifyingly hard and he had a natural talent on top of it. 

Time slowed again as the ball flew towards him, landing perfectly in his catch. The crowd went wild again, everyone convinced that Jackson would have scored. 

“That’s my friend!” Stiles shouted, gesturing over to Scott, as if they had been looking at someone else during the practice. Even Lydia cheered, shooting Jackson a knowing look as she did so. Scott let himself feel a little cocky and threw the caught ball over his shoulder, landing it perfectly in another stick’s net. It felt good. 

He looked out at the people staring at him and saw Morrell again, watching him carefully. She had been there from the beginning, brow furrowed when he had collapsed at the sound of the whistle. At least she hadn’t laughed, but guidance counsellors probably were trained not to laugh at even the most ridiculous problems. She didn’t seem surprised by his sudden increase in talent, but more concerned. As if it was something irreparably bad, that he was suddenly good at a sport, even with his asthma. 

With a jolt, he remembered his injury, wondering why it hadn’t hurt. Even with adrenaline going through his system, it was wearing off and that meant it should hurt more, especially after how much he had been moving. That was never anything good. Coach was calling them over for instructions for the next exercise and was putting a lot of emphasis on Scott getting there. Hopefully that meant something good. 

<>

“I’m assuming this McCall kid did pretty well during practice today?” Laura asked as she answered the phone, sighing in defeat. 

“Star player, as far as I can tell. One misstep. When the whistle blew, he collapsed to the ground in pain. I’m sure you can remember how much it hurt. I overheard him and the Sheriff’s kid talking about going back to the preserve,” Marin explained. “So they were both there last night. The inhaler Derek found is probably his.”

“I’ll ask Derek to keep an eye on them. We don’t know where Peter is and he will still have some control over the kid. He’ll hopefully be able to smell it on him, if Scott really was bitten.”

“Subtlety’s never really been one of Derek’s talents,” Marin warned, reasonably. She definitely wasn’t wrong. “So, what kind of takeout do you want me to pick up? I can do a slight detour and go past that pizza place you love.”

“That sounds amazing. See you in about thirty?”

“Yeah. Are you feeling any better?”

“Stronger, which is good. I was thinking about taking a shower, I feel pretty gross and laying in bed all day, whilst nice, hasn’t helped much. I’ll change the sheets, as well, before we go to sleep tonight.”

“Remember to take it easy.”

“I’m showering and changing the sheets. I’m sure I can do it without injuring myself any further. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Laura slipped out of bed, grabbing her phone. As she waited for the water to heat up, she sent a brief text to Derek telling him to keep an eye out for the two teenagers. Even without a supernatural threat, it probably wasn’t the best idea to go out walking through the preserve. They had had a few instances of mountain lion attacks over the years. The Hale family’s presence had kept them away for a while but after their deaths, it had allowed the feline population to grow bolder. Another consequence of her family’s deaths.

Once the water was warm enough, an almost scalding temperature that Marin could barely stand to be under for more than a few minutes when they showered together, she stood under the stream. 

Her hands brushed over her now fully scarred stomach. It was strange to see scar tissue there. Most of the injuries she had acquired over the years were gone after a few minutes, even quicker after she became an Alpha. Laura wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a born werewolf with a scar. Bitten werewolves tended to keep ones from before they were bitten, as well as a very faint outline of their bite mark in some cases, but they were always very healed by the end of their transformation. It no longer hurt to touch and she could hardly feel it unless she pressed down very firmly, which may not have been the safest action on her newly healed stomach. Marin had asked her to be careful. 

By the time the sheets were changed, her hair now only slightly damp, Marin came home, bringing with her the tantalising smell of pepperoni pizza.

“That smells so good!” Laura called down.

“I’m glad. Did you have a big lunch?” Marin replied, not seeing the need to shout since her wife could hear her anyway. Laura paused awkwardly. “Laur?”

“See, the thing is-”

“Laura, how did you forget to eat lunch?” she asked, laughing slightly in disbelief. “You’re lucky I got you a large pizza.”

She came down the stairs to see, as promised, a large pizza box and a much smaller one sitting on the kitchen table, Marin getting drinks ready. Her stomach grumbled loudly at the sight, loudly enough for her wife to hear. They shared a knowing smile and settled at the table, kissing briefly in greeting. Laura melted into her touch and scent-marked the side of her neck, a force of habit that she never wanted to break. 

“This is so good,” Laura moaned into her first mouthful.

“I think you’re just hungry.”

“I could be completely full and I would still love every mouthful. It’s my second favourite thing to eat, after all.”

“Second favourite? What’s your favourite?” Marin asked before realisation dawned on her face. “Oh god, that was terrible.”

“True, though. You are my favourite thing to eat.”

They settled into comfortable silence, legs twined together under the table. Both of them knew that the next few months would be very difficult, training a new Beta, staying out of the line of fire from the Argents and any other hunters who might show up. At least they had some semblance of calm before the storm came in. 


	6. Wolf Moon Part Six

Scott and Stiles walked through the preserve, splashing in the puddles with every misstep. They were still talking about practice earlier, Scott both elated and scared as to what his new-found talents could mean for him. No matter what the cause was, the results were concerning, to everyone. 

“I don’t know what it was,” Scott insisted. “It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball. And that’s not the only weird thing.”

He was dealing with a lot of weird things. 

“I can hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear. Smell things.”

“Smell things? Like what?” Stiles scoffed, as though it was all some kind of joke. Scott shoved his irritation and fear down. 

“Like the Mint Mojito gum in your pocket,” he replied, having been able to smell it all day. Keeping the sensations to himself had been slowly driving Scott insane and it was annoying for Stiles to doubt it, even if it was reasonable. 

“I don’t even have any Mint Mojito…” Stiles mumbled, searching through his pockets. His brow scrunched up as he found a single piece, still wrapped in plastic. Stiles looked at him, questioning how he could have possibly known that. Scott opened his arms out, not knowing how he knew it either. 

“So all this started with the bite.”

Scott was reminded with all the horror stories he had heard from Dr Deaton and his mum and her friends, of people attacked by animals, getting their injuries infected and dying. Going through a surge of adrenaline, making them strong, and just collapsing at the end, no longer able to be saved. It was terrifying, even at the time. 

“What if it’s an infection,” he began, saying his worst fears aloud. “Like my body’s flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?”

He tried to remember what to do if someone went into shock but he was so caught up in his panic that the instructions couldn’t come to him. That was even more panic inducing. 

“You know what? I actually think I’ve heard of this,” Stiles said and Scott’s heart soared. It wouldn’t surprise him for Stiles to know about a really specific type of injury or infection, the Wikipedia rabbit hole saving them, like it had when they goofed around in lessons sometimes. “It’s a specific kind of infection.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think it’s called lycanthropy.”

The word was familiar to Scott, but he couldn’t place it. He had grown up around medical terms, with his asthma, his mum and his job, and he couldn’t guess where he might have heard it. For some reason his associated the word with Stiles, which was strange. “What’s that? Is that bad?”

It sounded bad. 

“Oh yeah, it’s the worst. But only once a month.”

It felt like Stiles was taking the piss out of him again, but Scott couldn’t figure out how, yet. “Once a month?”

“Mmm-hmm. On the night of the full moon.”

Realisation dawned on Scott and he felt both relieved that it wasn’t some horrible illness, that he knew, and annoyed that Stiles was making a joke about something that could possibly kill him. Continuing with his joke, Stiles mimicked a wolf’s howl. It wasn’t at all similar to the one Scott had heard, but it reminded him of the injury and the night before all the same. 

“Hey, man,” he admonished. 

“Look, you’re the one who heard a wolf howling,” Stiles protested, laughing.

“Hey, there could be something seriously wrong with me.”

“I know! You’re a werewolf! Argh!”

Scott rolled his eyes, fear still clutching his chest tightly. It was a surprise that he hadn’t had an asthma attack from the stress alone, not including what he had achieved in practice. He could still feel Morrell watching him, that somewhat clinical look she gave him permanently seared behind his eyes. It felt like someone else was watching him now, as well, the more he thought about it. Paranoia. Another symptom to add.

“Okay, obviously I’m kidding,” Stiles admitted. “But, if you see me in shop class, trying to melt all the silver I can find, it’s ‘cause Friday’s a full moon.”

Scott stopped walking and looked around. This was the area where he had been bitten, he just knew it, but there was no evidence of any kind, and he couldn’t see anything that even looked like the remains of a broken inhaler. No medicine or plastic to be seen. 

“No, I could’ve sworn this was it,” Scott said. “I thought I saw something, the deer came running. I dropped my inhaler.”

“Maybe the attacker picked it up, thought it was evidence or something,” Stiles theorised.

“I hope not, those things are like eighty bucks.”

All of a sudden, Scott became very aware that there was someone watching them, but he wasn’t sure why. He thought maybe he could hear breathing, smell cologne that should have been too faint for his nose to pick up on, and he ignored it. The paranoia was really setting in. Maybe he should talk to Mrs Morrell about it, she was a counsellor at the school, after all. 

“What are you doing here?” a voice asked from behind them. Scott and Stiles shot up, giving each other panicked expressions, and turned around to face the man. He looked young, early twenties, and Scott felt like he had seen him around somewhere, there was a familiar look to him. “Huh? This is private property.”

“Uh, sorry, man, we didn’t know,” Stiles explained.

“Yeah, we were just looking for something, but…” Scott trailed off. The man gave him a look, telling, ordering, him to continue. “Uh, forget it.”

The man threw Scott’s inhaler to him, Scott catching it quicker than he thought he could, even after everything that had happened at lacrosse practice. There was no way that he could have heard their conversation, and there was zero chance he could figure out the inhaler was his, so how the hell had he done that? Tha man walked off with one last look at Scott. 

“Alright, come on, man, I gotta get to work,” Scott said, rubbing his thumb over the familiar plastic, feeling more at ease with his medicine in his hand. 

“Dude,” Stiles said, stopping him. “That was Derek Hale. You remember, right, he’s only a bit older than us.”

“Remember what?”

“His family. Burned to death in a fire like ten years ago. He had a sister in our class-”

“Cora,” Scott finished, remembering, vaguely, his childhood friend and, even vaguer, the funeral. “His sister Laura’s married to Deaton’s sister, Morrell. I’ve met her a few times at the clinic but I thought he was in New York.”

“I wonder what he’s doing back,” Stiles scoffed.

<>

Laura’s phone buzzed just as they were putting the boxes in the bin. Marin finished up with the mess on the table whilst Laura went to answer it, just knowing it would be the final confirmation that they knew which kid’s life Peter had eternally screwed up. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, before answering Derek, his picture, a permanent scowl, almost mocking her.

“Hey, Der, I’m guessing you’ve confirmed it,” Laura said.

“Oh yeah, but there’s more.”

“Why? Why is there more? Did  _ you _ bite someone as well?”

“No, but Peter’s done something else.”

“Oh god.”

“I found a dead deer-”

“So he’s eating Beacon Hills flora?”

“Fauna!” Marin corrected from the kitchen. Laura rolled her eyes affectionately. Derek chuckled into the phone, having heard it as well.

“He didn’t eat it. Killed it and cut a spiral into the thing’s side.”

That threw Laura for a loop. They had all been working on the assumption that Peter wanted power, but the spiral was revenge. It wasn’t like they had abandoned him, so Laura couldn’t think of what he wanted revenge on them for. She had visited him at least once a week, talking to him and taking as much pain as she could bear, and Derek always visited whenever he was in town. 

“Why would he do that?”

“Argents are in town. They did the fire. I know we lost everyone as well, but he watched them, he got pretty messed up because of it physically and mentally,” Derek said, his voice going hard and serious. The fire was an especially sensitive topic for him, more so than Laura who had been in New York at the time, and wasn’t the victim of Kate Argent in more ways than one.

“God, he’s going after them, isn’t he? If he attacks one of them, they could take that as a reason to go for us, for the kid. We have to make sure they don’t find out about Scott. He won’t have any control, he won’t understand the risks, they could take him before he even knows what’s happened.”

Laura had tensed up completely.

Talking about the fire was never going to be easy, for the first two years afterwards she couldn’t mention it without crying, but with the people who did it in town, it was more than overwhelming. She walked over to Marin, burying her face into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. Marin pressed a kiss to her temple and put the phone on speaker, drawing Laura closer.

“Has anyone else seen the deer?” Laura asked.

“I heard someone report it to the police,” Derek said. “They think it’s a cult or something. Sheriff will probably take the pictures to Alan.”

“He’ll know how to cover it up,” Marin sighed. “Wouldn’t be the first time the spiral’s been used in Beacon, people will forget about it soon enough. Are we telling Scott today?”

“No, we need to make sure Peter’s not going to cause any problems. He’s the one who bit Scott, he’ll still have power over him until he’s learnt control,” Laura said. “Derek, when you saw Scott, you weren’t creepy, were you?”

“No, I just spoke to him and gave him his inhaler back.”

Laura had to bite back a sigh. He really had no idea how imposing he could come across sometimes, it would have been funnier under other circumstances. Marin smiled sympathetically at her. 

“Did he mention the inhaler to you at all, or in normal people’s hearing range. Or at all?”

“I may have been pretty far away when they said it,” he admitted, having the decency to at least sound embarrassed. “I made sure him and his friend got out of the preserve, Peter’s scent is everywhere in here.”

“So you responded to something you shouldn’t have been able to hear and then kicked him and his friend out of the preserve. This kid’s probably scared shitless of you. I don’t suppose they’ve come up with the conclusion of werewolf yet, have they?”

“The friend, the Sheriff’s kid, suggested it, but he didn’t believe it, just a stupid joke.”

“Well, we’ll deal with the spiral. You go home, try and relax, you sound like you might break the phone you’re so stressed. Thanks, love you.”

“Love you too.”

Laura hung up the phone and threw it down in frustration. She broke out of Marin’s arms and began pacing around the kitchen angrily. Marin waited patiently at the table, watching her passively, until Laura had calmed herself down again. Claws slowly retracted, revealing slightly bloodied palms.

“We’ll sort this out,” Marin told her firmly, grabbing the wipes they kept on the side, brushing over still tender skin. “It’s just going to take a while. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's very dialogue heavy, so sorry about that.  
I have essays due in the next two weeks so there's either going to be no updates for a while, or a lot, depending on how much I want to procrastinate them. Sorry about that too


	7. Wolf Moon Part Seven

The sky outside was dark and stormy when Scott turned the sign from open to closed. It had been a weird day at work, Deaton keeping an unusually close eye on him, and he was convinced that the vet could tell what Scott, and Stiles, had done the night before. Because of that, he couldn’t bring himself to ask for help with his injury. Scott was closing up that night, he could take care of it himself once Deaton had gone home and no one would need to be any the wiser. Given there was a police dog with its stitches due out soon, Deaton might mention it to the sheriff and get Stiles in trouble too. 

He went to the bathroom, facing the mirror, and began to peel off the bandage. Blood had leaked through it, making a red splodge sit in the centre of it, a stark reminder of how serious the injury could have been. As he pulled it away, Scott didn’t see the bloodied holes in his side, shaped by fangs, didn’t see any remaining injury. All that was left was some dried blood and the faintest outline of scar tissue where the injury had been. 

Scott had seen injuries that healed fast. Nothing healed so fast as for the scar to begin to fade, not in twenty-four hours. 

Choosing to ignore the problem, at least for the time being, Scott went about his regular duties. He hadn’t visited the cats, yet, because there had been a lot of appointments that evening, so he dragged the giant bag of cat litter, not as heavy as it usually was but still needing to pull it along the floor, and opened the door into the room clearly labelled ‘cat clinic’. Scott wasn’t sure who the sign benefited since there was a window into the room that showed all of the cats, the only people allowed back there were Scott and Deaton, and the smell of cats was noticeable before the writing was. 

“Hey, kitties,” he greeted cheerfully, as he did every time. Instead of greeting him in their normal way, which was to completely ignore him unless he was holding food, they began screeching loudly. They pawed at their cages, desperate to try and scratch him, and absolutely losing it at the sight of him. Before any of them could knock their cages down or injure themselves in their madness, Scott back out of the room quickly and shut the door, hearing what he thought was his heart pounding.

Instead, it was someone at the front door, pounding on the glass. 

Scott went to open it, recognising that it was Allison, from school. She was drenched by the rain and looking very distressed. He rushed to open the door, noticing how she was crying.

“I didn’t see it,” she sobbed, instead of anything that could give context. “I took my eyes off the road for, like, two seconds to change a song on my iPod, and then this dog, it just came out of nowhere!”

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” he reassured, interrupting her before she could work herself up into any more of a state. “Do you remember where it happened so I can send Animal Control to find it?”

“No! I mean, yes, I know where I hit it, but the dog is …” she trailed off slightly.

“Where is it?” he prompted, worried Allison was beginning to go into shock. 

“It’s in my car.”

They went to the only other car still in the car park, Scott’s bike kept safely inside by the back exit, to the boot. Scott was immediately soaked by the rain from his first step outside. Inside was a dog, barking and growling at them as soon as it saw them, lying lamely in the car. It was clear they were suffering. Allison jerked away, a normal reaction to something aggressive. 

“You okay?” he asked. Allison nodded. “She’s just frightened.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Let me see if I have any better luck,” Scott said, approaching slowly. He knew how to approach the dog, he used to have one, and he’d been working for Deaton to pick up the general tricks of the trade. Continuing to bark, at first, the dog slowly calmed down as Scott approached holding his hands out. She quieted, whined and allowed Scott to stroke her slightly. 

With a careful lift, Scott took her in his arms and carried her back into the surgery room, to examine her. She continued to whine and growled very slightly at Allison when she got too close. It wasn’t unreasonable to suggest she associated the random stranger who had put her in the boot of a car with the accident, caused by said car. 

“I think her leg is broken. I’ve seen the doctor do plenty of splints. I can do it myself and then give her a painkiller for now,” he explained. The poor thing was in a lot of pain. He glanced over at Allison, only in a thin, soaked t-shirt, and looked frozen. “Yeah, I have a shirt in my bag.”

“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you,” she protested, still sounding cold. Scott grabbed it anyway. His mum was a nurse; he knew spending too long wet and cold could cause a lot of really bad illnesses. 

She left the room to get changed and Scott focused on petting the dog. He risked one glance out, catching just a glimpse of her, before feeling immediately guilty and looking away again. The door whined knowingly. 

“What? I didn’t see anything,” he protested to the animal, as if that made it any better. 

Scott began to prepare the splint, making sure the leg was set perfectly before doing so, and began wrapping the leg. The painkillers was easy to administer. She was a healthy weight and Deaton kept all of the medication in meticulously labelled drawers. Even if he had no idea what he was doing, Scott was fairly certain he could manage to at least give her painkillers. Allison came back into the room just as he was doing the final few steps. 

“Thanks for doing this. I feel really stupid,” she admitted. 

“How come?”

“I don’t know. ‘Cause I freaked out like a total girl.”

“You are a girl,” he pointed out. 

“I freaked out like a girly girl,” she corrected, with a small smile, “And I’m not a girly girl.”

“What kind of girl are you?”

“Tougher than that. At least I thought I was.”

“Hey, I’d be freaked out too,” Scott admitted. It was to make her feel better, obviously, but it definitely wasn’t a lie. He’d been so upset when Roxy was killed he’d had an asthma attack so bad he needed to be hospitalised. “In fact, I’d probably cry. And not like a man, either. Like the biggest girly girl, ever.” 

They shared a laugh, some of the tension in Allison’s shoulders finally breaking. 

“It’d be pathetic,” he continued, smiling. 

“Yeah right.”

“So, it looks like she’s gonna live,” Scott said, changing the topic and looking over the dog who was seeming much more relaxed. “And I’m pretty sure she’ll let you pet her now, if you want.”

“I don’t think so,” Allison replied, bashfully. 

“Oh come on,” he encouraged. “You don’t want her to sue. I hear this breed is very litigious.”

Allison relented, accepting that the dog would accept her, and moved in to run a hand through soft fur. He smiled at how she relaxed, faced with proof that she hadn’t caused irreparable damage to an innocent life, that the dog was calm and didn’t hate her. 

“You see?” he asked. “She likes you.”

She caught his eye, smiling back. “What?”

“I don’t know, sorry. You have an eyelash on your cheek,” Scott said. 

“Oh, it’s from the crying,” Allison realised, turning self-deprecating again. She swiped it off and was about to brush it off of her finger when Scott stopped her. “What?”

“You’re supposed to blow it away and make a wish,” he insisted. “My abuelita told me when I was little. I mean, you’re in a new school, in a new town. I’m sure you have a lot of wishes right now.”

She closed her eyes, focusing on something, opened them and blew the lash away. It fluttered down somewhere else and they shared a small laugh at the innocently childish action. His abuelo had always been quick to remind him that it wasn’t a Mexican tradition, but a British one. Scott’s dad’s family came from Scotland, so he let himself consider it a family tradition anyway, even in a mixed-up way.

“I’d ask if you want to know what I wished for,” Allison began, “But I’d really like that one to come true.”

“I guess you can just tell me when it happens.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little shorter than the previous chapters and doesn't have anything from Laura's POV, but that's because combing it with Laura's POV would make it a really long chapter.  
Not sure if I'll permanently change the structure but I'll see how it goes


	8. Wolf Moon Part Eight

The phone rang loudly as they were sat on the sofa, the screen showing a rather unfortunate picture of Alan as Marin answered. There was no need to put it on speaker phone, Laura would be able to hear it even if the two of them weren’t pressed against each other, but she might need to say something later on, and it was just good practice for being around humans.

“Hello,” Marin greeted, civilly. The two had never gotten along great, most likely due to their age difference and only sharing one parent, but they did their best. “The sheriff didn’t give you any problems, did he?”

“The sheriff hasn’t come in yet. There’s a police dog due for a checkup soon, so he’ll probably just do it at the same time,” Alan explained. Marin scoffed and Laura let out a small laugh.

“Whilst I’m not exactly thrilled with the sheriff’s response to a possible sacrificial cult in Beacon, I guess that gives us more time. How was Scott today?”

“Jumpy, but he does think he was attacked by a wild animal last night, so you can forgive him for that, can’t you? Doesn’t seem to suspect anything yet. I did get a text just as he was closing down. A girl hit a dog with her car, broke his leg and he fixed it up. I’ll check it in the morning but it sounds like he did a good job.”

“None of that was relevant,” Marin replied in an exasperated manner. Laura cut in before they could have a full blown argument. It wouldn’t do to have everyone turned on each other right as they were trying to introduce a new Beta. Having Peter in their pack would do enough damage as it was. 

“Does he seem like he’s at risk of losing control?” Laura asked.

“Not yet, no. The full moon is this Friday, obviously, and he won’t cope with that, but he’s a very calm and controlled kid. There are going to be a few problems along the way but he should be easier than you might be expecting.”

“Well, we need something to be easier. Thank you, Alan.”

“Thanks,” Marin added, managing to not convey the petulant look on her face. Laura kissed her cheek to appease her. “We’ll talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later.”

They settled back down on the sofa, Marin resting her head on Laura’s shoulder whilst Laura played absent-mindedly with her hair. After about an hour of mindless TV they weren’t really paying attention to to begin with, they went upstairs to go to bed. Marin took longer, still dressed for work whilst Laura was in leggings and a loose-fitting t-shirt, and she preferred to shower at night, rather than in the morning like Laura did. After some time getting ready, they slipped under the covers, sharing a last good night kiss. 

Laura shifted in bed again, a short while later, too anxious to sleep. She knew Marin had drifted off a couple hours ago, cuddled against her side. It usually helped to have her that close. For one thing, she slept better in general whilst holding her wife. With Marin so close, it stopped her fidgeting because they usually kept the other woman awake. She thought she had done a better job of hiding her insomnia until Marin spoke.

“You alright, baby?” she mumbled sleepily. Laura knew she wasn’t completely awake yet with how casually she said the word ‘baby’. That was either a word used with utmost love or mockingly. She could either let Marin go back to sleep, and continue to fidget, or they could talk about it. Laura waited too long. “What’s got you thinking this much?”

“Peter.”

Marin turned on the bedside light and faced back to Laura. There was a sympathetic look in her eyes and she traced the side of her wife’s jaw affectionately as she waited for Laura to say more. It took a few moments.

“I don’t know what to do about him.”

“Do you want my advice as your wife, or as a druid?”

“As my wife, and not just because I like saying ‘my wife’.”

Marin chuckled slightly and they slid closer together. “As your wife, I think you and Derek need to talk about how you think the fire affected Peter, as well as his coma, and you need to talk to the teenager he bit. Then, you need to talk to him and see if there is a way of making him stop, either by making him leave or sending him somewhere for him to get help.”

“And what’s your advice as a druid?”

“Let the hunters get him. If he goes around biting people, it will get hunters involved, it may result in more than just supernaturals living in Beacon being killed. It will completely throw off the natural balance. And if the hunters kill him, it should be enough to be considered a truce for you guys, enough elbow room to properly train a Beta without additional risks.”

They knew, from when they first got together as teenagers, that they would always have divided loyalties. Their parents had drilled it home, Alan still mentioned it whenever it was relevant, and it was apparent whenever they needed to make a choice about pack business. Laura had been raised to become an alpha and, though she took the mantle far younger than anyone predicted, had to act as one. Marin had been raised as a druid and needed to always follow that path. It had prompted almost a game between them. One of them would ask for advice, the other would give her advice as either a wife or alpha/druid. It worked.

“I know it’s not what you want to hear,” Marin began but Laura interrupted her. 

“Would you be horrified if I said I was already considering it?”

“No. Not at all. It’s a good choice, it helps the person he screwed over and considering you’re a lawyer, it would be weird if your mind didn’t go there, and he hurt you.”

Those last few words were choked with emotion. Marin’s hands had drifted to Laura’s stomach, stroking over the scar tissue. Laura was surprised to realise she hadn’t felt it. Normally she was so completely attuned to her wife’s movements she would know what Marin was doing when they were in different rooms. Now she couldn’t even tell they were touching.

“I know, I know,” Laura said placatingly. “I’m never going to forget it, Derek won’t ever forget it, I know you won’t ever forget it. But … I don’t think my mum would ever leave him for the hunters.”

“It’s different than that, Laura. She was never in a situation like this. And familial connections probably impacted that. Peter’s her little brother. I can’t imagine you ever leaving Derek for the hunters, no matter what he did, even if he completely and truly deserved it.”

They fell silent for a little while, contemplating what they could do. Laura pressed a kiss to Marin’s shoulder, exposed by the tank top she was wearing, and scent-marked her quickly. She felt her eyes growing heavy, sleep finally coming just as they were talking about the problem. That was probably why sleep was coming, realistically. 

“You know I love you, right?” Marin murmured, sleep coming for, for a second time.

“Course I do. Don’t mind hearing it again.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too, so much.”

An alarm blaring loudly woke them up the next morning. It signified the start of a new day, the start of them trying to improve whatever screwed up circumstances they had left the day before, the start of Laura needing to get ready for work, having taken an impromptu day off. Obviously she hadn’t been able to wake the day before, but she couldn't exactly tell them what really happened. 

“Love you lots,” Laura said, kissing Marin goodbye as she left, half an hour before Laura needed to. “Good luck today.”

“Love you too. Remember to take it easy.”


	9. Wolf Moon Part Nine

Scott slumped down in bed, feeling optimistic despite everything else that had happened. He had walked Allison to her car, reassuring her that the dog would be okay, exchanging numbers so he could update her on the recovery, and asked if it was really family night on Friday. It had been an obvious lie, Scott doubted anyone would have believed it, yet alone the smartest girl in the school, but there was no harm in checking. A party would be fun and now that he stood a chance at making first line, Scott was actually invited. 

He suggested that they could go together, though he clarified that it wasn’t a date thing, and said that maybe, if it was relevant, she could get whatever she wished for. 

Allison had blushed at the comment and agreed to go, promising to text confirmation when she spoke to her parents. He had stayed a little longer at the clinic, making sure the new arrival was definitely okay, before cycling home, inhaler safely in his pocket in case he needed it. He didn’t, not at all, which would have been scary if the day hadn’t taken a surprisingly good turn. 

Covers thrown back, Scott was feeling still rather warm despite the chilly autumn air coming in through his window, he began to drift off, head turned into his pillow. 

Waking up in the middle of the preserve was terrifying to say the least.

He was only in his underwear and that wasn’t even his biggest concern. There was something else with him, something he knew and was petrified of, and Scott began walking as quietly as he could to see it. Standing there, hunched over like a dog, there was a monster from his worst nightmares, glowing eyes peering directly into Scott’s soul. It was dark, with shaggy fur, made entirely of muscle, fangs and claws, and for a brief moment, everything was still, even Scott’s heart didn’t feel like it was beating. 

Slowly, Scott began walking away, keeping the thing in his sights out of fear and some strange leap of logic, and it followed him, menacingly. He was reminded of the night before in the woods, when he just knew something bad was about to happen, about to change his life completely, and began moving faster.

Breaking into a run, the monster mirroring him with easy, loping strides, Scott twisted and turned his back on the thing, desperate to escape. The woods weren’t too big, big enough to hide whatever that was from the general public, but if he ran in the same direction for a few minutes, as fast as the adrenaline was making him move, he would find some sort of end to the trees and bushes and hiding places. A fence was appearing in his eyeline, meaning people somewhere nearby, and a smaller chance that whatever it was was going to hurt him or anyone else. 

Scott hoped. 

Instead of landing on the safety of the hard, firm ground, he plunged into cold water, thrashing a little bit in shock and fear, before figuring out which way was up and just about pulling himself up in time to take a gasping breath. Head breaking the surface, Scott looked around desperately and didn’t see any more monsters. Instead, there was a man stood there watching him, clearly the owner of the pool that Scott had unwittingly dove into. He didn’t even look angry, just confused by his presence. Scott was also confused. 

“Good morning,” he tried awkwardly, still struggling to stay afloat. Swimming had never been his strong suit, not being allowed to take lessons with everyone else. 

Pulling himself out, thanking the man for use of a towel to dry off most of the water, Scott began the very strange walk home. All he could think about was the thing that attacked him. The night before, he had assumed it was just a very fast wolf and fear that clouded his perception of what had happened. There was no way a normal wolf could do the things that it had done, but Scott hadn’t been able to pay complete attention to it on the basis that he was terrified, in the dark and about to have an asthma attack in the rain, at night. It was a miracle he hadn’t died. 

Suddenly Stiles’ theory about being a werewolf didn’t seem so ridiculous. That Derek Hale guy had his inhaler, despite being nowhere near close enough to have heard the conversation about it, and had stared at him so intensely Scott had felt very unsafe. Maybe he was a werewolf and had attacked him, and now he wanted to finish the job before Scott could tell anyone about it. But that was stupid, wasn’t it?

He was walking along the road, the easiest way to find his way home from wherever he was, when a car pulled over, with a vaguely familiar, and very sympathetic face.

“You alright, kid?” she asked. Scott nodded uncomfortably, not quite able to place her. “You’re in your underwear walking along the side of the road. You’re not alright. Is there someone you want me to call for you?”

“Um, no, it’s okay, it’s not a long walk.” The woman seemed to know that it was a total lie. Scott suddenly realised who she was. “You’re Deaton’s sister-in-law!”

“Yes, Laura’s fine, the other one’s a bit of a mouthful,” she replied, partly amused but more worried. “I’m guessing you’re Scott, Alan’s assistant, in a way. Yeah, this is going to be a tough conversation. Are you hurt at all?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Scott insisted, checking himself over for any missed injuries. He really was okay. Just scared out of his mind. “Must have been sleep walking, or something. Bad dream.”

“Let me guess, a monster with glowing eyes?” Laura asked. Scott stared at her in shock. “Come on, Alan’ll be in by now, and I’ve got a blanket in the back you can use. We’ll go back to the clinic. I’ll explain everything with him, I promise, I just need you to trust me for, like, ten minutes.”

For obvious reasons, Scott didn’t trust her, but if she knew Deaton, and knew about whatever Scott had seen in the forest, so he risked getting into the car, accepting the blanket gratefully. He was still a little damp and the cold air was only making it worse. Yet again, he was impressed that he hadn’t had an asthma attack. 

“Okay, do you have anything important at school this morning?” Laura asked. “Because you might need to miss the first few lessons.”

“I have two free periods and then physics,” Scott remembered. 

“Okay, well free periods are useful and physics sucks so that’s not too bad. Marin can write you a note for missing that and homeroom and you’ll be okay. Do you have any clubs or anything after school?”

“Lacrosse, final elimination.”

Laura seemed impressed by that. “Well, we’ll make sure you don’t miss that, you make sure you do your best. Lacrosse was always my favourite, even with Coach Finstock shouting every other word, at least. What’s your position?”

“Normally a middie but I’m trying for attacker.”

“I was goalkeeper, all four years of high school. Derek, my brother who I’m assuming you’ve had the bad luck of meeting, was more of a basketball player. Good at it, I think, I was in college for most of his games.”

The rest of the drive was in silence and they arrived at the clinic just as Deaton was opening it up. He didn’t seem surprised by their arrival, just disappointed. Scott was surprised, because he didn’t see Laura text anyone during the drive, and there was no way she would have known that she would find him just walking along the road that morning. Was there?

“Scott, are you okay?” Deaton asked, sounding genuinely concerned, just as Laura had done. “Why are you wet and wearing a blanket?”

“I was sleepwalking and fell in a pool,” Scott explained, embarrassed. He was welcomed into the warm waiting room and given a change of clothes to use. Going into the bathroom, where he had discovered his missing injury the day before, he was surprised to find that he could still hear Laura and Deaton talking through a wall and a shut door.

“Are you sure it was Peter calling him?” Deaton asked.

“Positive, I could smell him the entire drive. You know how it is, you bite someone, they’re linked to you for the foreseeable future. And why else would he suddenly be sleepwalking halfway across town? That doesn’t exactly happen with other bitten wolves. We need to explain it before the hunters start getting twitchy.”

“If they aren’t already,” Deaton said darkly.

Scott left the bathroom, trying to make as much noise as he could to alert them to his presence before reaching them, and stood there awkwardly as the two adults stared at him. 

“I promised you answers, didn’t I?” Laura said, sitting down in one of the plastic chairs heavily. “Between us, we can probably give you them.”

“What’s going on with me?”

“You were bitten by a werewolf, Scott,” Alan told him plainly. “And now you’re becoming one. I’m sorry for you to find out like this, and under these circumstances.”

“Werewolves aren’t real.”

Instead of answering with words, which Scott would have very much appreciated at a time when his head didn’t feel like it was deciding between exploding or imploding, but definitely going to do one of them, Laura did something else. Her eyes began to change colour, going from a light brown to red, and glowing brightly. Fangs expanded out from her normal teeth, her ears grew pointed and all of a sudden her entire face shifted to something resembling an animal. 

Scott passed out.

“Shit.”


	10. Wolf Moon Part Ten

They had laid Scott down in the tiny break-room carefully, Laura staying with him whilst Alan took care of the one booking he had that morning and the other small tasks needed to keep the clinic going. As she sat there, waiting for the poor kid to wake up, she studied him carefully. He was young, once you reached about twenty anyone in high school looked like a baby, but Laura thought that there was something just a little bit sweeter about him than most teenage boys. Not difficult, but sweet nonetheless. He woke up somewhere around the one hour mark, Alan just finishing up in the other room.

“How you feeling?” she asked sympathetically, helping him sit up. “You’re in the clinic. You fainted. Do you remember what happened before?”

“We were talking and then I passed out and I had the weirdest dream, you had glowing eyes and … that  _ was _ a dream, right?” Scott asked, eyes focusing hazily on her. He looked like he already knew the answer and was terrified of it.

“No, I’m sorry, it wasn’t. You’re a werewolf. Forever, I’m afraid. We’ll help you. You’ve got Alan, he knows more than I do, and I’m your Alpha. That makes me responsible, alright, so don’t go around worrying too much.”

“I don’t understand … it was just an animal that attacked me, there’s no way it was a werewolf,” Scott continued, desperately grasping at straws.

“Whilst animal probably is a decent description for my uncle, he is a werewolf. I’m guessing we should probably go over a basic summary so you know what kind of questions you want to ask,” Laura said. She went into a simple explanation of it, skimming over the details a kid didn’t need to hear, and tried to cram almost three decades’ worth of experience into a couple minutes. It sort of worked. Scott looked about half as confused as he had at the start, but he did look twice as scared.

There were a lot of questions that Laura was expecting to get from him. The one that bitten wolves asked most often was whether or not there was a cure. She had heard stories over the years, only stories she had to remind herself, from killing the alpha that bit you, to having your loved ones throw your clothes at you until you were fully human again, but there was nothing proven. Laura was prepared for the questions about a cure, about transformations and about silver bullets.

“Am I a monster?” he asked, voice scared.

That question broke her heart.

“No, no, you’re not a monster. You might be a werewolf now, but you’re still as human as you were last week,” she told him firmly, needing to drive that point home. “My mum used to have a saying ‘Just because we’re predators, it doesn’t mean we have to be killers’. Do you know what that means?”

Scott shook his head slightly.

“It means that our nature doesn’t define us, it’s our actions. Humans can be monsters just as much, can be worse, than werewolves, or anything else. You’re a good kid, Scott, you’re not a monster, I promise, and definitely not because of what someone else did to you.”

He seemed reassured by her answer but Laura could see there was still a tension in his shoulders despite it. She could almost see the anxiety coming off him the scent was so strong and at that moment, thankfully, Alan walked in. A familiar sight for Scott who was having his entire worldview flipped. In the back of her mind, Laura vaguely remembered Marin telling her, back when they were at university, about some study that just giving trauma survivors a cup of tea or coffee soon after the event was enough to help deal with a lot of the shock and help them recover quicker. Something normal to cling to.

“How are you, Scott?” he asked, concerned.

“I don’t think I’m going to pass out anymore, but my head feels like it’s going to explode,” Scott replied, smiling bashfully. 

“That’s pretty understandable. Marin’s got you out of your lessons until after the break so we have a couple of hours before we need to get you back to school,” Alan continued. “Laura’s told you a lot already, I know, but there’s still a lot you’ll need to know.”

“Will I be able to go to practice later?” he asked quickly then fell back, clearly internally chastising himself for the question. Laura felt her heart hurt at his quick self-reproach.

“Of course you can,” she said, only thinking about the consequences once the words had already left her mouth. He’d done well at the last practice, he’d do better at this one, especially knowing what was going on with him. “We’ll do everything we can to make sure you can still have a normal life.”

The relief on his face was all the confirmation she needed to know that it was the right choice. Derek’s only two settings were expressionless or angry and it was nice to have someone who could respond in normal ways. Even if he was just sixteen. Oh god, he was only sixteen. Peter had ruined his life before it had even begun. 

“Um, why did, sorry, did you say it was your uncle? Why did he attack me?” Scott asked.

“We’re not entirely sure,” Laura began. “Actually, that reminds me, I don’t want to victim blame you or anything like that, but why were you in the preserve in the middle of the night? It was a school night.”

“And an active crime scene,” Alan added, giving her a pointed glance. 

Laura had never really been able to claim to have the best priorities.

“Stiles heard through his dad that they thought someone had been murdered so we went looking to see if we could find a body,” Scott explained.

Even having a general idea that that was what the two kids had done, even with the obvious regret and embarrassment in the kid’s voice about the events, Laura was dumbfounded by the level of stupid the two of them had shown then. It was a wonder Peter hadn’t killed them.

“Did he kill someone? There was a whole load of blood.”

“No, he didn’t kill someone,” Alan said. “He attacked Laura, trying to become the Alpha. Derek distracted him enough for Laura to fight him off and he ran when he realised he was outmatched.”

“But there was, like, a lot of blood,” Scott pointed out. “And you look like you’re fine now. At least, you don’t look like you were recently attacked by an animal.”

Laura smiled sympathetically and drew up her shirt to reveal the scar. She had spent some time that morning tracing over it, staring at herself in the mirror, trying to remember that that was what she looked like now. It would take time, Marin had reminded her to be patient and kind to herself, but she wanted to get a headstart on the process. The look of concerned horror on Scott’s face almost made her regret the action but a vet technician would know what healthy scar tissue looked like.

“But that would have happened not even forty-eight hours ago, how is it already healed? How are you still alive?” he gaped.

“Alan and Marin helped to stop me bleeding out and then I healed. Your bite mark is already gone, isn’t it? We heal quicker, remember, and Alphas heal quickest of us all. Also, I spent most of yesterday in bed which is not as fun as it was when I was your age. As for why Peter bit you, sorry for going off topic, he either wanted to take out a witness, thinking the bite would kill you, or he wanted a Beta of his own.”

“I thought you said Betas follow the Alpha and you’re the Alpha,” Scott pointed out.

“I did, but if you bite someone, you’re linked to them for a while. Usually, only Alphas bite someone because, one, they’re in charge and they are the ones who decide who is pack, and two, it helps with training if you have a stronger link to a Beta. That’s how Peter was able to draw you out into the woods this morning. You’ll have a tie to him for a while until you learn control. And that will take a lot longer than a few days.”

He nodded slowly, absorbing all of the information she was dumping on him. Laura was impressed that he wasn’t running for the hills. Admittedly, she had watched Scott pass out from shock not even two hours ago, but that was a fairly easy reaction. Not for him, but it helped her which meant she could make it easier for him. 

“Will my eyes start glowing red?” he asked.

“No, yours will be gold. You know how I told you about the three types of werewolf?”

“Alpha, Beta, Omega - like in a normal wolf pack.”

“Sort of, yes. Instead of being at the bottom of the pack, Omegas are werewolves that don’t have a pack. Alphas always have red eyes, because they’re the most powerful. Betas have one of two eye colours. Yours are gold. The other colour is blue. You get blue eyes if you kill an innocent. It’s your soul hardening against going through something like that.”

For another hour or so, her and Alan fielded questions from him. Some of them were normal, no there was not a cure, there was a chance he could completely change into a wolf but it took a lot of training and practice to control, it would be with him for life. They brushed over the existence of hunters. Enough for Scott to know there was a risk, not enough, hopefully, to scare him into never talking to anyone new again. 

Laura drove him home to pick up his school stuff and lacrosse equipment. It was a nice house, looking a little run down but Scott had mentioned it was just him and his mum, who always had to work, so it made sense. And it had the distinct feeling of a home full of love, even from just two people. He had good people to fall back on if the stress ever got too much. On the drive to the school, Laura told him about how to act during practice. Obviously she wouldn’t stop him from using some of his werewolf abilities, he didn’t even have much control to not do that, but to take caution when tackling someone, just in case.

“Thank you, for all of this,” Scott said as he climbed out. “You must be pretty stressed with your uncle causing you a bunch of problems.”

“You’re the priority with us, Scott, you don’t need to thank me for any of this. I’m just really sorry you have to deal with it all.”


	11. Wolf Moon Part Eleven

Scott had made it through the rest of his lessons, not seeing Stiles since they didn’t share classes that day and he had educational support group at lunch, in a strange sort of daze. He sat with a few of the other players on the lacrosse team, people who were pretty much guaranteed a spot on first line, and sort of contributed to the conversation, but internally his mind was whirling. He had gone from believing a strange animal had attacked him, possibly getting him sick with an infection or something, and then learned that werewolves were real and that he was one.

And he was permanently one.

Laura was nice, though, and Deaton had always looked out for him, and it wasn’t like he was alone. Stiles had suggested, albeit jokingly, that he was a werewolf and would probably be blown away when Scott told him he was actually right about it. He had been instructed to be very careful about who he did or didn’t tell, but he and Stiles told each other everything. It would be more suspicious if Scott didn’t tell him. 

But they had practice and then afterwards they could talk. So long as Scott was careful enough, and not stupid enough, to do anything too supernatural, something he never thought would be a problem before that day, he could get through this, hopefully make first line, and talk to his best friend about the thing that had changed him from being human. Scott would have to work through a lot of stuff before he could fully comprehend that. 

As he was getting ready in the changing rooms, he had the distinct feeling that someone was approaching him but brushed it away as paranoia. Then his locker door slammed shut, leaving him face to face with Jackson. A very angry Jackson.

“Alright, little man,” he said aggressively, sizing him up. “How about you tell me where you’re getting your juice.”

Of all the things Scott thought the captain of the lacrosse team, someone with perfectionist issue who he had upstaged at the last practice, would ask him, where he was getting his juice, Scott didn’t even drink juice that much, was not at the top of the list. Another weird thing he now had to deal with, although this didn’t have much of an explanation. 

“What?” Scott asked, helplessly. There wasn’t a lot else he could do and after a lifetime of being stuck dealing with Jackson, he knew there was no getting away until Jackson got what he wanted. 

“Where are you getting your juice?” Jackson demanded again, even more serious despite the ridiculousness of his words. 

Scott thought about the question for another moment, trying to come up with an answer that would get Jackson to leave him alone. “My mum does all the grocery shopping.”

“Now listen, McCall,” Jackson said, voice turning from serious to dangerous. “You’re going to tell me exactly what it is and who you’re buying it from, because there’s no way in hell you’re out there kicking ass on the field like that without some sort of chemical boost.”

The pieces fell into place and Scott realised why he was so intense about the whole thing. It was a weird way to talk about drugs, especially to a kid who, as far as Jackson knew, wasn’t involved in anything strange. Scott wondered how to get himself out of the situation. He wasn’t on drugs, any test could prove that, but then he got worried that Jackson was on them. His mum had shown him pictures and symptoms of people who had used drugs for sports and it had scarred him into never wanting to even consider it. If Jackson was taking anything, especially something illegal and not completely trustworthy…

“Oh, you mean steroids,” he said, making the connection. Jackson was aggressive with everything he did. “Are you on steroids?”

“What the hell is going on with you McCall?” Jackson yelled, shoving him into the locker painfully. Scott felt something inside him snap.

“What’s going on with me? You really wanna know? Well, so would I! Because I can see, her and smell things that I shouldn’t be able to see, hear and smell! I do things that should be impossible, I’m sleepwalking three miles into the middle of the woods, and I’m pretty much convinced that I’m totally out of my freaking mind!”

He stopped, breathing heavily, and felt a little bit lighter having vented his frustrations about the entire situation to someone, even if that someone was Jackson. Scott felt nervous, wondering if he had just let slip too much, if he had accidentally revealed the secret Laura had given him to someone who definitely could not be trusted with it. Jackson was spiteful and would do anything to make himself be the best. There was a good chance he was on steroids, Scott realised, a little late, and wasn’t that a concerning thought. 

“You think you’re funny, don’t you, McCall?” Jackson scoffed, not having believed a word that had come out of his mouth. A blessing and a curse that Jackson never listened to other people. “I know you’re hiding something. I’m gonna find out what it is. I don’t care how long it takes.”

Fuck.

Jackson bashed on the locker door aggressively, he did everything aggressively and left the changing room. There were still a few minutes before practice would start, everyone else already out on the pitch, warming up. Scott waited to take a few deep breaths. Laura had said the shift, when he would start to become a werewolf, was linked to his heartbeat, that he needed to find a way to anchor himself. 

Whilst Scott had no idea how to figure out how to anchor himself, or what that really meant, he understood basic biology and knew a few deep breaths would at least slow down his heartbeat to a point where he didn’t feel like he would pass out, for the second time that day. He pressed his face against the locker door, cold against his suddenly hot skin, and tried to calm himself down. His phone buzzed in his bag, probably a message from Stiles since they hadn’t seen each other yet that day, a rare occurrence for them, but he ignored it since they were going to be on the pitch together soon and Scott was still freaking out a little bit.

Jackson thinking he was on drugs was one thing. It wouldn’t be hard to prove that it was false. The only concerning thing that would come up from a drug test would be showing that Scott wasn’t taking his asthma medication anymore. His mum would freak out a bit, since his asthma had always been pretty scary, and he might have to tell her about the whole werewolf thing and her thinking he was a monster, but at least they wouldn’t have to pay for the medicine anymore. A silver lining in the world’s most awful cloud.

But if Jackson was going to look into it, Scott hesitated to use the word investigate since it all already sounded a bit stupid, then that could cause problems. 

It had barely been a few days and he was already struggling to keep it all a secret, let alone the fact that he was being called to the woods because of Laura’s deranged and murderous uncle, and now he had Jackson to deal with on top of it. Scott only hoped that practice would go well. He’d tell Laura about Jackson later; she’d promised to help him with control more when he was finished with work. 


	12. Wolf Moon Part Twelve

Laura had told her wife that Scott was now, mostly, in the know, but they hadn’t talked about it properly, yet. It had always been a strange, distant, idea that she may have to train a Beta. Before the fire, Laura had always had the knowledge that her parents or aunts and uncles would be on hand to help, and that they weren’t supposed to bite people unless under very specific circumstances. After the fire, Laura had never wanted to inflict this kind of life onto someone. But Peter had done it and there was no way she was going to let Scott suffer for it. Not as much as the bite would make him suffer anyway. 

“Hey, how’s your day been?” she asked as Marin picked up the phone. 

“Probably less eventful than yours. Collected in a few assignments, one of the classes had a test, didn’t give out any detentions. Yours? Work not too annoyed about you showing up less this morning?” Marin asked and just the sound of her voice was enough to help Laura calm down.

“They weren’t too bad. I’d done some work yesterday, and I know I shouldn’t have, so I wasn’t too behind, and I’m between cases anyway. Scott didn’t take the news too badly, thankfully.”

“I thought you said he passed out.”

“Yeah, but out of all of the reactions he could have had, passing out wasn’t too bad. He could have run out of the clinic and straight to the police station. He’s friends with the sheriff’s kid, he would at least have a chance to explain all of this crap. And he accepted the rest of it. Thanks for covering for him, by the way,” Laura explained. “Couldn’t have been much fun.”

“Not terrible. It does mean that if a teacher starts noticing behavioural changes, he gets referred directly to me which is useful.”

“Yeah, that is useful.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Laura could hear her wife roll her eyes at the obvious lie. She was anxious and stressed, understandably so, but it wasn’t what they needed to focus on. There was a new Beta, Peter on the loose and Argents in town. It would be a problem if she wasn’t anxious and stressed, really. 

“Laura,” Marin said in a soft warning. “You don’t have to talk about it now, but if you don’t, we’ll talk about it when we get home. I’ll be back in an hour or so. Are you already home?”

“Just got in. I was supposed to be talking with Derek about Scott’s training but he’s bailed on me. This whole thing is really messing with his head. He’s going to do something stupid and dangerous, I can just feel it.”

The line fell quiet for a few moments and Laura could only hear her wife breathing. She sunk down onto the sofa and let out a heavy sigh. This was becoming a shitshow, she could tell. Scott was coping, for now, but with hunters and Peter causing problems, even she was having a hard time controlling her shift, and Laura was a born wolf, with very good control, and an adult who was no longer in the emotional hellhole of high school. 

“There’s lacrosse practice just about to start. You don’t think he’s gone to spy on Scott, do you?” Marin asked. Laura let out a groan. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“He’ll probably think it’s some useful bullshit like keeping an eye on how well he can control his shift. God, what if Scott sees him? I love Derek but if I saw him spying on me, I’d freak out. And he’s spying on high schoolers! He’s already got half the town suspicious of him because of all his sulking!”

“Breathe, Laur, breathe,” Marin reminded. “I’m sure he won’t do anything too stupid, alright? And I’m still at the school for a while yet. I can cover up most things, probably. God, that sounds very unethical.”

“Only out of context,” Laura said. “In context it’s very ethical. You are a very ethical person.”

“Thanks, baby,” Marin teased, laughing slightly into her words. “I need to get the last of this marking done and I’ll be home soon. Love you.”

“Love you too. Oh, wait, do you want chicken or pork for dinner?”

“Uh, chicken, I think the pork lasts for a few days longer than the chicken.”

“Great.”

Laura cut the call off, immediately feeling a little bit lonely when she could no longer hear her wife. It reminded her, somewhat, of when they were teenagers, never wanting to spend a second apart, always going in for one last kiss, never wanting to hang up the phone, even if her entire family could hear it. At least they lived with each other now, coming home to the other every night, and they were married, both wearing a constant reminder of each other.

She loved her ring. It was a simple silver band, thinner than the average wedding wing, with a triskele engraved on the inside, with their initial on either side. Marin’s matched it, like most married couples did, and Laura had always enjoyed linking their left hands together to compare them, feeling the metal of Marin’s ring against her as a permanent reminder. With everything else up in the air, it felt good to still have something that could ground her. And Marin had been her anchor for as long as Laura could remember, probably longer. 

With a sigh, she sat down at her desk, skimmed over some reading she needed to do for work, none of it that important or that mentally taxing, before turning her attention to the notepad she had been using, on and off, all day. At the top was written ‘Beta Training Plan’, optimistically confident that Laura would be able to come up with a plan. There were some suggestions from Alan and Marin, all of which were very necessary such as ‘make sure he knows to avoid wolfsbane’ and ‘his eyes with flash in photos unless he learns to control it’, in a box at the side of the page.

Laura had her own notes, written in an unorganised way all over the page. They ranged from ‘learning what an anchor is’ to ‘teach him to play Pounce’, a game from when she was little, in terms of usefulness. She couldn’t remember much about her lessons. Most of what Scott needed to know where things she had been taught from birth, things she had never really thought about. Her specific training was more focused on what an Alpha needed to know, something she hoped would not be relevant for Scott, especially this young. 

She decided to try again:

  1. Teach him how the shift works
  2. Teach him what control is
  3. Teach him what an anchor is
  4. Answer any questions he has
  5. Practice control as often as possible

Five simple enough rules to at least try and follow. 

Laura was fairly certain she had explained, mostly, how the shift worked. A lot of it was pretty general knowledge about werewolves; you get angry, you start to shift into a wolf. Control was the ability to control the shift, especially when you got angry. An anchor was how you controlled the shift, whatever it was that kept you human. Scott was a smart kid, he’d pick up on the concepts easy enough. But born wolves, people with such a massive advantage on Scott, still struggled with it. And that was with Alphas who had completed training and had a full pack to help them. 

Briefly, she considered asking Satomi for help. The fellow Alpha had been friends with her mum and had promised to help with anything if the need arose. But Laura didn’t want to risk bringing the hunters’ attention to another pack, especially a pack who weren’t causing any issues at all. Besides, it would have been rude to try and pass off her Beta to another pack and she had promised Scott she would be the one to look out for him. 


	13. Wolf Moon Part Thirteen

“Scott, Scott, wait up!” Stiles exclaimed, rushing over to him as everyone waited for the final elimination to start. His nerves were mounting as it was and hearing his best friend shouting and running over to him did little to help that.

“Stiles, I’m playing the first round, man. Can it wait?” he asked, gripping his stick tightly.

“Just hold on, okay? I overheard my dad on the phone. The analysis came back from the lab in LA, the stuff they had done on the blood they found,” Stiles began and Scott found himself trying to keep his breathing calm again. Right before lacrosse practice was not when he wanted to tell him that he was a werewolf. “They found animal hairs in it!”

“Stiles I gotta go,” Scott said, grabbing his stuff and trotting over to where everyone else was grouping up. He would explain it later, he promised himself, and hopefully Stiles wouldn’t be too annoyed at having to wait a couple of hours. 

“Wait, no, Scott, you’re not going to believe what the animal was!” Stiles yelled as he ran off. Scott realised exactly how good his hearing was when he heard Stiles mutter, surrounded by the noises of people warming up, talking and whistles blowing, “It was a wolf.”

His heart sped up in panic. There was no need for Stiles to immediately make the connection between wolf hairs found in a puddle of blood to Scott suddenly being stronger and faster, but there was a pretty obvious connection after Scott had been bitten by what looked, at the time, like a wolf. After the morning he had had, Scott wasn’t sure if there was anyway to describe Peter other than monstrous. Something that would haunt his dreams forever.

Scott would tell Stiles later.

“Let’s go! Gather round!” Coach yelled, gesturing to everyone. “Bring it in! Come on! Come on!”

Allison was walking over to the benches and caught his eye. He waved to her, receiving a little wave back, and didn’t notice when Coach saw the action. 

“Got a question, McCall?” he asked almost angrily. Scott wasn’t sure he had ever seen the man when he wasn’t at least a little bit angry and therefore couldn’t tell if Coach actually thought he had a question or if he was being passive aggressive. It was usually safest to assume he was being passive aggressive.

“What?”

“You raised your hand. You have a question?”

“Oh, no. I was just, uh … Nothing, sorry,” he said awkwardly. With one final glance over at where Allison was sat, he saw Morrell standing with a couple of other teachers.

With the lacrosse team being the pride and joy of the school, a lot of the teachers were interested in how they did, even showing up to practices. For final elimination, there also needed to be teachers there to keep an eye on the students who showed up to watch, since there was always a crowd. Scott had never seen Morrell show up before. She had been at the school longer than he had, though not by much, and he knew she had attended as a teenager. A lot of the teachers had. It was a small town.

“Okay,” Coach began. “You know how this goes. If you don’t make the cut, you’re most likely sitting on the bench for the rest of the season. You make the cut you play. Your parents are proud. Your girlfriend loves you! Huh? Everything else is, uh, cream cheese. Now get out there and show me what you got! Come on!”

That was the closest Coach got to an inspiring speech.

Before games, he usually did the speech from Independence Day and everyone just sort of accepted it. Scott felt excited, nevertheless, and all of the other players began cheering and shouting as if the speech had been the best they had ever heard. They all ran into their positions, doing their last stretches, and the final elimination began. 

They practiced simple passing exercises, each group trying to keep the ball to themselves for as long as possible, and for the first time since Scott had picked up a stick, he didn’t feel like he was holding his group back. He could pass and catch with ease, and even intercepted a few throws when he felt more confident. Laura had told him to enjoy his new abilities but after his talks with Jackson and Stiles he felt like he needed to keep everything a little more subtle. 

He passed the ball one last time to a member of his group, Isaac in his chemistry class, when the whistle blew and it was time to switch exercises. The assistant coach nodded approvingly at him and Scott walked to his new place on the pitch with an extra bounce in his step. The new exercise were mock games, playing until the one group scored and then swapping over so Coach could see how people were under actual conditions. 

Someone passed the ball to Scott, voluntarily, for the first time, and he caught it. He paused for a moment before turning and running towards the goal, only to be knocked to the ground by Jackson who tackled him much harder than necessary. Scott was pretty certain if he was still human, it may have even broken a bone. As it was, the worst part was the shock of hitting the ground and he recovered quickly enough from the sensation. 

The dirty look from Jackson only served to make him annoyed.

In the next play, Scott was starting and as he settled into position, he looked up to see who he was against and felt his heart stop for a moment when he realised it was Jackson. It could go one of two ways. Jackson would humiliate him again, and possibly actually break something with how violently he was playing, or Scott was looking at an opportunity to fight back against it and maybe make Jackson second think shoving him around. 

The whistle blew and Scott relied on his new reflexes to grab the ball before Jackson could even react.

He was off running on instinct, not realising what he had done until a player approached him for a tackle. Scott dodged to the side and avoided it, spun around the next player who approached him like he had done the maneuver for years, and approached the goal with a reasonable hope that he could actually make the shot. 

Two more players approached him and Scott sidestepped them with ease only to see three players converging right in front of the goal. With his momentum and his apparent lack of self preservation, Scott made a decision about what to do. He increased his pace a little more and as the players bent down to brace for the tackle they thought was coming, he jumped over them with a flip and landing safely behind them. A quick flick of his stick later and the ball went through the net, the goalkeeper to slow and stunned to stop it. 

The crowd burst into cheers and Scott felt elated. Allison clapped for him and he even saw Morrell looking impressed, even though he hadn’t exactly been subtle. He wondered, briefly, if Laura did things like that when she was on the team. As level-headed as she seemed as an adult, it had felt as though she had been pretty out there in high school. Deaton had certainly alluded to it a few times, earlier that day. 

Players surrounded him, clapping him on the back and shoulder, and even jostling his helmet in the strange way the players did when someone scored a goal. Scott felt elated but then heard Coach yelling over to him, not sounding too happy:

“McCall! Get over here!”

Scott approached, pulling off his helmet and breathing heavily. 

“What in god’s name was that? This is a lacrosse field. What, are you trying out for the gymnastics team?”

“No, Coach,” Scott said, worried he was about to get in trouble for it.

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, telling the complete truth. He had just trusted himself to move fast enough to score. “I was just trying to make the shot.”

“Yeah, well, you made the shot. And guess what?” Coach asked. He started aggressive but then his face shifted into an almost kind smile. “You’re starting, buddy. You made first line!”

The crowd cheered again, having apparently been eavesdropping, and Scott was so excited his began bouncing on the balls of his feet. He went back to finish off with the game, he couldn’t just drop out even if he knew he had a place, and didn’t notice the concerned look that Stiles was giving him. By the time practice was over, the team finalised, Stiles had already gone home, having sent Scott a text to meet him there as soon as possible. At least that gave Scott the chance to explain everything. 


	14. Wolf Moon Part Fourteen

The front door to the Stilinski house was unlocked, like it normally was when Stiles asked Scott to come over, and that meant Scott could walk straight up to his friend’s room. He made sure to lock the door behind him; the sheriff, understandably, didn’t like it when the front door wasn’t locked as it was obviously a serious safety problem. As Scott got to his friend’s door, he could practically smell the anxiety coming off of Stiles, and then realised, remembering Laura’s talk with him, that he actually could smell his anxiety. 

He knocked on the door and heard Stiles start with surprise. 

Stiles opened the door and sighed with relief when he saw Scott. “Get in. You gotta see this, dude. I’ve been researching ever since I got home. Websites, books, all this information.”

His entire room was covered with said research, loose pages, some printed sheets, some scribbled on in his signature messy handwriting, books strewn about the place, left open haphazardly. All the telltale signs of Stiles going into a Wikipedia rabbit hole, but this time a lot more desperate to find answers. And Scott was able to give them to him. Stiles seemed pretty erratic and stressed, however, and that was definitely more concerning than the state of his room. 

“Have you had your Adderall today?” he checked, knowing that Stiles occasionally forgot it if he got too focused on something. 

“I might have forgotten it. Doesn’t matter. Okay, just listen. It’s not about the blood, they don’t know who did it, still trying to narrow down suspects, even thinking of Derek Hale.”

Scott’s heart stopped momentarily. Whilst there was nobody dead, there was enough evidence to suggest that there was somebody hurt and Derek had been there when it happened. It wasn’t like they could explain that a previously comatose man had attacked his niece, nearly killing her, and that the injury had already scarred over. Telling the sheriff about werewolves outright would have been easier, though it would cause more problems. 

“But that’s not it, okay? Remember the joke from the other day? Not a joke anymore. The wolf. The bite in the woods.”

He took a deep breath, preparing to tell his friend everything. 

“I started doing all of this reading,” Stiles said, before Scott could say anything. “Do you even know why a wolf howls? It’s a signal, okay? When a wolf’s alone, it howls to signal its location to the rest of the pack. So, if you heard a wolf howling, that means others could have been nearby. Maybe even a whole pack of wolves. Werewolves.”

Stiles said the word Scott had been thinking about all day. 

“I know,” he replied slowly. “Something … called me … into the woods this morning. It was this big monster-thing. Looked like a mutant wolf. And it had these glowing eyes, kinda white and silvery. I ran away because ... it was a monster-thing. Deaton’s sister-in-law, Laura, picked me up when I was walking home and drove me to the clinic and explained everything.

“She was the one who got attacked in the woods. Her uncle, the guy everyone thought was in a coma for years, was the one who attacked her, the one who bit me. She showed me her eyes, they were glowing  _ red _ , dude, and her whole face changed, and she grew fangs and then I passed out for about an hour.”

“Seems fair,” Stiles said, looking like he might also pass out. Just to be safe, he sat down in his chair, opposite Scott sat on the bed. “So, what? You’re a werewolf now?”

“Yeah, there’s no cure. But her and Deaton said they’ll help me figure it out and stuff. Work on my control and things like that, so I don’t hurt anyone. Talked me through everything.”

“Wait, so, like, can you change into a full wolf or is it like a wolfy-like thing? You probably are affected by the full moon, but how much? Is it you have to change or you just want to change? Are you part of her pack now or is there some kind of initiation thing you have to do? Is it like hazing? Will you get drunk?”

“She says I might be able to change into a full wolf if I train really hard and have complete control, otherwise I just have a Beta shift, which is fangs and glowing eyes and claws and stuff. The full moon makes us a bit more aggressive and more likely to shift but we can control it. Apparently I’m part of her pack now but her uncle has some sort of bond with me until I’ve fully mastered control, ‘cause he’s the one who bit me. There is no initiation and why would she want me to get drunk?”

“Like in hazing,” Stiles said, as if that explained everything. “But, I have so many more questions.”

“Okay, well, I’m picking up Allison in an hour so ask the more important ones and then we can go over everything tomorrow,” Scott promised, preparing himself for another barrage of questions. They didn’t come.

“You’re going to the party?” Stiles demanded. “It’s a full moon tonight, Scott. You just said that’s when you are more aggressive and more likely to, what was it,  _ shift _ ? Do you seriously think going to a party is a good idea?”

“It will be fine, Stiles. I’ll just keep quiet and try to keep my heartbeat down. If it gets too much I can always just step away for a little bit to calm down. Like how when you used to get your panic attacks at the beginning of freshmen year. You didn’t avoid things, you just coped differently.”

“You gotta cancel this,” Stiles said, standing up and rushing over to Scott’s backpack. “I’m gonna call her right now.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m cancelling this.”

Stiles had his phone and was walking away, opening it up to start the call. Scott felt a wave of anger come over him, far too much for just a simple little offense, and pushed Stiles against the wall, grabbing his phone before he could make the call. Before he realised it, he was getting ready to punch his friend, but held back just in time, horrified at his actions. Instead, he tossed the chair to the side, needing to vent it somehow. Scott took deep breaths, willing his pulse to go back down. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, though he knew it wasn’t enough. He had nearly attacked his friend, had shoved him against a wall. “I-I gotta go get ready ... for that party.”

Scott grabbed his bag, shoved his phone away, and made to leave the room. Stiles was still standing in the corner, looking in shock at the sudden turn of events. Guilt threatened to overwhelm Scott but he pushed through. There wasn’t a lot he could do to make his friend feel better. Most likely Stiles wouldn’t want to be around him for the foreseeable future. Scott didn’t blame him. If the situation had been reversed, he would have been pretty nervous around Stiles. And he had made a commitment to Allison to pick her up for the party.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, desperately trying to convey that he truly was. Stiles nodded slightly in acknowledgement but his eyes were still wide and he hadn’t back out of the corner despite the considerable distance between them. Scott left the house, taking care to ensure the door was properly shut, not wanting Stiles to get in trouble with his dad and make the day even worse for him, and began to walk home. If he had a quick shower, he wouldn’t be too rushed with getting ready for the party. 

Just to be safe, he texted Deaton where he would be for the evening and that he would try extra hard to not lose control anywhere. He replied promising to keep an eye out for things and to keep Laura updated. Scott took deep breaths the entire walk back to his house, his heartbeat having lowered to what was more than an acceptable level but he could no longer be too careful about it. 


	15. Wolf Moon Part Fifteen

Scott laid out the clothes he was planning on wearing to the party and had debated over the past twenty minutes. It wasn’t like it was a date, or a party where anyone would be focused on him other than maybe a handful of people he already knew, but he still didn’t want to look stupid. And having something else to stress over took his mind off worrying about keeping control all evening. He had come up with some sort of strategy that he was fairly certain would work. 

He would pick up Allison, take her to the party, and make sure she had at least one other person to talk to if he needed to leave to calm down. Every half hour or so he would take himself away from people to do the box breathing they had all been taught freshmen year in their life skills class that Laura said was useful until he found an anchor. He’d drive Allison home when she was done and then Scott’s plan was to crawl into bed and die until the full moon had completely passed. 

With one last look at his clothes, checking them over for any possible flaws that could have appeared in the half a minute since Scott had last looked at them, he went into the bathroom. 

Stepping under the hot spray of the shower would always be a soothing sensation but the feeling of something underneath his skin trying to break free being numbed was practically euphoric. He washed his hair, massaging the shampoo into his scalp until every little bubble of lather was used, and finished up. He had been considering getting his hair cut shorter, having had it shaggy for quite a while, but it was a little too late for the party and Scott was still quite fond of the way it felt. 

He got out of the shower thinking over all of the excuses he could make to people for why he needed to leave so often and almost didn’t notice his mum waiting outside the bathroom door. And with his senses so newly heightened, that was impressive.

“Mum!” he cried out, flinching away slightly in surprise. He grabbed the towel around his waist even tighter. 

“Is this a party or a date?” she asked him softly, her eyes hopeful for either one. Scott didn’t get out much with work and school and he knew she was relieved he was being able to have some high school experiences. 

“Just a party, mum,” Scott promised. “I don’t like her like that and I think she likes Lydia, anyway.”

“Lydia … Martin? Natalie’s girl?”

“Probably. I don’t think I know her mum’s name.”

Melissa offered the keys to the car and Scott was elated. He thought he was going to have to beg and plead to be given permission to use it. Apparently his mum trusted him more than he expected. Scott took them gratefully, smiling widely at her, and made a mental note to do something to show just how much he appreciated it. A car, even a small one or a cheap motorbike, wouldn’t be in the picture for him for a long time yet, but he was saving, but it was good to have practice even after getting his licence. 

“Thank you.”

“We don’t need to have a talk, do we?”

“Mum, I just said it’s only a party, not a date,” he replied. “I don’t need the safe sex talk.”

“Oh my god!” she laughed in disbelief and Scott felt relieved that it wasn’t her intention and worried that he’d completely misunderstood what she’d said. “No, I meant about keeping the tank full. Give me those back.”

She snatched the keys out of his hand.

“Are you serious?”

“You bet your ass I am serious. I’m not gonna end up on some reality television show with a pregnant sixteen-year-old. Come on!”

After a little more persuasion, and Scott promising that he didn’t need a safe sex talk from her, he still remembered the first one, that it wasn’t going to be at all relevant to the night and that he would keep the tank full, he got the keys back. Hurrying to his room to get dressed, Scott quickly put his clothes on, tugging at them until he felt a little less stupid, and went into the bathroom one more time to check his hair and general appearance. He was surprised to realise he actually liked how he looked. 

“I’ll be back pretty late, probably,” Scott said as he was leaving, pressing a kiss to his mum’s temple when he walked past. “I’m dropping Allison off as well and she kinda lives in the opposite direction.”

“Okay, stay safe, remember all of your promises, and I love you lots, mijo,” Melissa replied, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “You’ll do great. Got your inhaler?”

“Always,” Scott replied, feeling a little guilty about it. He wouldn’t need it again, most likely, Laura had told him but he felt unsafe without it with him. “I love you lots too.”

<>

“Alan just texted me,” Marin said, causing Laura to look over from where she was preparing the carrots for their dinner. “It’s about Scott.”

“Did something go wrong at the party?” she asked, coming over. She used needing to look at the phone screen as an excuse to wrap herself around her wife, resting her head on Marin’s shoulder lovingly. Marin leant back into the touch, smiling softly.

“Given that it’s half seven, I highly doubt it’s started yet. No, Alan said Scott told him about the party and that he’d be sending updates on how he’s doing. Is that Scott preferring to tell someone he knows better, or did you just forget to give him your number?”

“I think it might be both,” Laura replied seriously. “But it’s good that he’s thinking these things through. Hopefully it will mean he’s reasonable enough to stay out of the obvious danger in town.”

“Alan says he’s going to pick up Allison Argent from her house.”

“Well, fuck that previous statement, then.”

Marin laughed slightly and turned to face Laura properly. Scott knew what hunters were, he knew they were out there, but Laura, not wanting to make him a paranoid maniac at only sixteen, chose to not tell him the specifics about who was in town. In all likelihood, Allison didn’t know the first thing about werewolves, let alone was she going to be involved in trapping one in some convoluted plot. Once they were in the clear with Peter and the imminent threat of hunters was at least diminished, Laura was going to explain everything to him.

“He doesn’t know,” Marin reminded her patiently. “You chose to make sure he doesn’t know. And there is no way they’re going to figure out anything about Scott. I doubt he’ll even see her parents and I doubt her parents even know someone was bitten.”

“You’re right, you’re right, I just want him to be safe.”

“And you’re a very good Alpha for wanting that. For now, all we can do is be ready to leave if Scott needs help, and make dinner because I’m starving.”

Laura bent down to kiss her, drawing it out a little longer than Marin probably expected, before returning to her task. She had always enjoyed cooking, which was good because, as the oldest of her siblings and cousins, she was always relegated to helping with the cooking whilst the others got the far less dangerous chores to do. Plus, her dad always gave her a few snacks whilst they cooked, when no one else was looking. The memory made Laura smile, the hurt secondary to the happiness it gave her, and soon enough she was done with the rest of the vegetables. 

“You don’t think letting Scott go to a party on his first full moon was a bad idea, do you?” Laura asked. “I know putting it like that sounds bad, but, in context, was it a bad idea?”

“He has good control, with no episodes of loss of that control, and seemed quite fine at school today despite all of what’s happening to him. Plus, we’re a two minute walk from the Whittemore house, and you could run it in about thirty seconds if something went terribly wrong. Scott’s being responsible about it all, telling Deaton about how he’s doing, and the hunters are all focused on catching Peter.

“You’re letting him be a teenager,” Marin finished, “And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

As they waited for the rest of the food to cook, Laura pulled Marin into the loveseat in their living room and held her close, playing with strands of dark hair. It was a comfortable silence, one born from two decades of knowing each other, that they could stay in for hours if the situation for it occurred. Marin rested on her lap, face nuzzled into the crook of her neck, with her hands buried into Laura’s sweater.

Laura was mostly certain it was her own sweater.

Within about a month of living together their wardrobes had almost entirely merged and they spent so much time with each other that she had a hard time deciphering who’s scent was strongest on some items. Sometimes even that didn’t give a definitive answer because her NYU hoodie was worn by Marin far more than it was worn by her. 

“Love you,” Laura whispered quietly. She heard Marin’s heart speed up at the words and grinned, proud that she could still make her wife so happy. 

“Love you too.”

“I think the pork is burning.”

“Crap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the update took a little longer, I'm back at home and that means I have work again so for another couple of weeks the updates may be slower than usual


	16. Wolf Moon Part Sixteen

Scott pulled up to Allison’s house slowly, barely needing to wait a second before she came out of the house. She was dressed in dark jeans and a dark jacket, contrasting with her white blouse, and looked beautiful. He told her when she got in, entirely sincere, before starting to tease her gently about what Lydia would think about it. It wasn’t too difficult to see that the two liked each other, even if they weren’t constantly spending time together.

“Are you sure she isn’t still interested in Jackson?” Allison asked, sounding casual but Scott could hear, either with his new senses or Allison’s genuinely honest face, that she was nervous about it.

“They broke up about a month ago. Everyone in school knew about it right away, and, besides, Jackson’s dated other people since. No reason why Lydia shouldn’t,” he replied.

The rest of the car ride was in silence. Scott could hear the music of the party blasting away when they were still five minutes away but even Allison could hear it as they approached. Jackson’s house was large, his parents were both very good lawyers, and most of their year had already arrived, making the entire party seem overwhelming, just from the street where Scott was parking. 

There was an unread message from Stiles, saying he was at the party, sorry for what he had done earlier, and was there to help him if the full moon got too much. Scott smiled, and made sure to keep an eye on his friend. Stiles went to parties more than Scott, though that wasn’t a particularly impressive achievement and they had never been invited to one at Jackson’s house, so it was good to have a friend to rely on who knew most of the playing field.

“You ready to go in?” Allison asked, climbing out of the car. She smoothed down her front one last time, and fiddled with her hair.

“Yeah, yeah, you?”

“Of course.”

As they walked in through the front door, held wide open by what looked like a half empty keg of beer, Scott’s senses were assaulted by the sounds of everyone cramped together in the rooms and everything else that came with it. The only thing he could think of that was similar was when the whistle had blown during the first tryouts, but it was probably the full moon that was making it worse.

At the party, everything going well so far - Scott, he texted to Deaton, remembering his promise. They walked through the house to the backyard where there was a pool, a lot more drinks, most of them smelling very alcoholic, and even more people dancing to the blaring music. Allison seemed to be having a good time, looking around at all of the relatively new faces to her, and Scott tried to ignore the burning itch running across his skin, making him feel like he was about to fall apart. Laura had told him that it was part of the full moon and that once he had better control it would mostly fade, but knowing about it and experiencing it were two completely different things. 

Scott glanced over the crowd of people and saw Lydia and Jackson in a dark corner, doing things that couples tended to do pre-break-up rather than post-break-up. Next to him, Allison stiffened as she saw the same thing.

“Do you want to dance?” he offered, not knowing any other way of making her feel better, or even distracting her from it. Allison nodded, taking his hand and guiding them to the middle of the group, where they settled together comfortably enough, moving to the very loud beat.

“You know, the first time I danced with a boy like this was in kindergarten,” Allison teased, referring to how far apart they were. Scott came a little closer and tried to force himself to relax, even with the moon glaring down at him. 

“Sorry,,” he replied. “I think my first time like this was middle school.”

“With a boy or a girl?” she grinned.

“I think it was with Danny, actually, though I doubt he remembers it. We got yelled at by the teacher, and then the teacher got fired. When was the first time you danced like this with a girl?”

“Freshmen year, so pretty recent. You?”

“Middle school again. The year after. I think that evens us out.”

They continued to dance for a bit longer until Scott felt a pair of eyes boring into his back. As he shifted, he saw Derek staring at him, almost angrily, just beyond the gate. Panic flooded through his system and in that moment, the strength of the full moon hit him, making his head spin. A dog was barking in a neighbour’s garden, fixated on Derek, and Scott was distracted. When he looked back, not even a second later, Derek was gone, a dark blur of movement over a roof the only possible sign of him. 

Scott felt his grip on Allison’s waist start to tighten and he stepped away, terrified of accidentally hurting someone. His breathing was getting faster, heartbeat becoming out of control, and he hurried through the throngs of people to the fresh air. Being alone, directly in a line of moonlight, only made things worse. Someone was running up behind him, calling his name, and to Scott’s relief it was Stiles.

“Hey, look at me, Scotty, what’s going on? What do you need?”

Scott was about to tell him but felt his control breaking even further, hands balling into a fist, suddenly desperate to hurt his best friend, and he turned and ran. It was like being on the lacrosse pitch at the first tryout, running faster than he thought was even possible for himself, faster than was possible for humans. He was heading home, Scott knew that on an instinctive level, but his eyesight had shifted, no longer seeing things the way he had before, and he moved faster than he could even process. 

<>

“Laura, did you see that?” Marin asked, staring out of the window. 

“Yeah.”

“That was Scott, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“You should probably go.”

“Yeah.”

Laura shoved her shoes on quickly, feeling her nerves mounting for whatever it was that had made Scott lose control, Peter still had a hold on him, afterall, and gave Marin a quick kiss goodbye before running off in the direction Scott had disappeared in. His scent was easy enough to track, and she recognised enough of it from when she had driven to his house. A less panicked part of her mind hoped that his mum wasn’t home, making the panicked part even more scared, but she focused on following him before anything else could go wrong. 

The house grew steadily in her line of sight, and Laura slowed down, not really wanting a neighbour to spot her. She watched as Scott threw himself through the front door, leaving it open, and could hear him running up the stairs to where she assumed his bedroom was. In the distance, Laura could hear a large car approaching and briefly panicked that it would be hunters coming for him. 

Her phone rang, the sound making her jump.

“Derek, Scott lost control.”

“I know.”

“Did you see him too?”

“Yes, I was watching him at the party.”

“Did he see you at the party?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Did it ever occur to you that seeing you at the party might freak him out a little bit? Enough to lose his control? Especially having not spoken to you at all?”

“Someone needs to keep an eye on him.”

“Yes, we had things in place for that!”

The call went dead and Laura silently fumed to herself. Sending Marin and Alan a text to explain what had happened, she slowly approached the house. It was a good thing the door was open because she didn’t want to have to break it down. There was a shower running upstairs, Laura had mentioned that sometimes cold water was enough to shock you back if you needed it, and she went up the stairs carefully, making sure to make enough noise that Scott would know she was coming. 

There was the sound of a car parking, terribly, in front of the house and a teenager rushed in noisily, shouting for Scott. They stared at each other for a few seconds, neither really knowing what to say.


	17. Wolf Moon Part Seventeen

Scott collapsed against his bedroom door as he shut it, breathing heavily, and looked up to see the full moon almost threateningly glaring at him. With a great deal of effort he changed out of his clothes, painstakingly picked out only a short time ago, put on his softest, most well-worn pair of sweatpants, and crawled into the shower, hoping for any kind of relief for what was going on. It felt like there was something beneath his skin, clawing at every inch, desperate to get out and hurt anyone within reach. He was beyond glad that his mum was out at work until at least gone midnight. 

The pain was pounding in his head, overwhelmingly, and he gripped the side of the bath as tight as he could. 

As he glanced at his hand, he noticed, growing from his nails, were long, sharp claws, looking so alien to him, that any form of logic in his mind was gone. It was like the final nail was being driven into the coffin; he was a werewolf, he was transforming on a full moon. Distantly, he could hear two people’s voices and he knew who they were, but Scott couldn’t recognise them. He clambered out of the bath and cleared the fog from the mirror, just as he had done to check his hair earlier in the evening. 

Staring back at him were a pair of glowing yellow eyes and sharp fangs, pushing against his mouth. Breaking his concentration on the mutation of his appearance was a knocking on his bedroom door, which he had, at the very least remembered to lock.

“Scott, it’s me,” Stiles called out, sounding worried. 

“Go away,” he managed to mutter in reply, hand clenched in a fist to hold back the horrifying urge to hurt his friend. “Please.”

“Scott,” another familiar voice called out to him. Laura. “I need you to listen to me, Scott. I know it’s really scary right now, and it hurts and your head doesn’t feel like your own, but all you need to do is listen to me and I can talk you through it. If you don’t want us to come in, we won’t.”

“I can’t stop it.”

His voice was a pathetic whine, but it was all Scott could do not to growl instead. His fangs cut through his lips and blood splashed on his tongue, doing nothing to stop the desire for pain and violence. The cuts were gone in seconds, only to be reopened again when he fought off another wave of pain. 

“Yes, you can, Scott,” Laura encouraged him. 

“If you can put up with Jackson for sixteen years and not punch him, you can control this,” Stiles added and the joke almost made him crack a smile. “Come on, Scott you can do this.”

“It’s just me and Stiles,” Laura insisted. “You’ve just gotta pull through for a few more hours. You’ve already done so well, alright, just a few more hours. You’re gonna be okay, Scott.”

“It hurts,” he said.

“I know, I know. If you think you can manage it, if you can open the door for us, I can help make some of the pain go away. It might make this easier.”

He made a noise of acknowledgement and tried to drag himself out of the bathroom. His hair was damp, cold droplets of water running down his back serving as somewhat of a distraction from the turmoil inside him, and eventually Scott trusted himself enough to try and open the door. As it swung open, creaking painfully loudly on its hinges, it revealed Laura and Stiles looking worried for him. For a brief moment, something in Scott’s mind contemplated what it would be like to slash their throats with his claws and bite into them with his fangs, and fear rang through him as logic settled in. 

“You’re doing really good, Scott. Do you think you can make it to the bed, or do you want to just stay here?” Laura asked, seemingly proud of him for just that one little action. He shook his head and sat on the floor as his breath came in heavy pants. “That’s alright. Can you give me your hand?”

Scott offered it up and, upon the very second that Laura held it, felt some of the pain lighten, clearing his head to think. It no longer felt like he was being clawed from the inside out, and that his bones were seconds away from snapping and breaking, and, though it was nothing close to feeling okay, he felt better. Looking up at Laura, he saw her arm was lined with black veins feeding upwards. Vaguely, Scott could remember her explaining that they could take pain. 

“Looking pretty cool, Scotty,” Stiles said, clearly uncomfortable and trying to alleviate the situation a little bit. “Loads better than the crappy movie effects.”

“Thanks,” he barked out. “At the party, I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

“No, no, you got out of there before anything bad could happen. You did really good, dude, seriously. A-plus.”

“All you need to focus on right now is yourself,” Laura told him softly. “You just need to breathe and try and relax. I know it’s the shittiest thing to say to try and get you to do that, but I can’t think of anything else that might help.”

“And, besides, this isn’t going to last forever,” Stiles continued, seeming more relaxed now that he knew Scott was safe and, clearly, not in as much pain. “Look at Laura, she’s a werewolf, and she’s not struggling. That came out crappy. I meant it more as a ‘give it time and you’ll get there too’ kinda thing.”

“And remember, Scott, I’ve had almost thirty years practice now. This is the first time it’s ever happened to you and it’s come from something very traumatic. It would be crazy to assume you would find any of this easy, especially so quickly.”

A silence fell over them for a while as Scott struggled to regain his control. He was aware that his eyes were still shining yellow, even as his claws and fangs had gone away, though he wasn’t entirely sure how he knew that. Eventually even that sensation stopped and he felt almost himself again. 

Laura was knelt opposite him, continuing to take his pain even as the black veins along her skin had faded slightly, keeping a careful watch over him. Stiles was slumped to the side, fidgeting with something in his pocket, his meds must have worn off almost an hour ago if he’d taken them at his normal time, but tilted towards Scott to keep him in his line of sight. It didn’t feel too overwhelming anymore, just difficult. Stiles heartbeat sped up suddenly.

“Are you alright?” Laura asked, having noticed it as well. “Your heart just got a lot quicker.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. I just realised that you’re married to one of our teachers. It was mildly upsetting to remember they have lives outside of school. We can go back to focusing on Scott now,” Stiles excused, looking mildly upset. Laura laughed softly, but Scott could see a small smile when Stiles mentioned Morrell. He supposed that Laura must have texted both Morrell and Deaton about what had happened, or at the very least Deaton probably would have mentioned that Scott hadn’t sent the promised texts from the party.

The party.

Allison.

He had ditched Allison.

“Now yours has gone up,” Laura said, her brow creasing slightly. “I’m assuming it isn’t in response to my marriage.”

“I left Allison at the party without a ride to get home. I don’t even think I said goodbye.”

“Well, I don’t think anyone will leave her stranded, and I doubt her parents will let her stay out, in a new town, without having a back up plan for picking her up. She’ll be okay. You can apologise to her at school on Monday. It wasn’t your fault remember.”

“It looked like you were having a panic attack,” Stiles added. “You can say it was something like that. Then she can’t blame you for it.”

“Maybe don’t do that,” Laura corrected with a stern gaze at Stiles. “But, yes, I’m sure telling her that you didn’t want to leave won’t hurt.”

“Besides, Derek dropped her off home,” he said nonchalantly.

The temperature in the room dropped significantly.

Suddenly all Scott could think about was Derek doing something to hurt Allison, trying to get her to stay away from all of the werewolf stuff. It was a ridiculous thought, all Derek had done so far was stand around angrily and glare at the two of them when they were dancing, but the part of Scott that was uncontrolled werewolf latched onto it and surged back into control. His eyes brightened even more, fangs and claws protruding again in an instant, and adrenaline flooded his body.

Even Laura looked on edge, though Scott didn’t quite know why. He found he didn’t seem to care, either, which was even stranger. As her grip on his hand, the pain no longer there once the wolf was in control, loosened slightly, Scott stood up and jumped out the window, scenting the air, trying to find Derek. He knew the other werewolf would be in the woods, knew it on an instinctive level, and ran.

“Shit, shit,” Stiles exclaimed, staring out the window where his friend had disappeared. “Your brother wouldn’t hurt her would he?”

“No, no, I don’t think so,” Laura muttered. “Go and check any way, see if you can put in a good word for Scott, I’m going to get him before he hurts himself or anyone else like this.”


	18. Wolf Moon Part Eighteen

Scott ran through the night, not thinking, only feeling his way through the preserve. He could feel he had fully shifted, could feel the fangs and claws as a part of himself, could feel his ears elongate, could feel his face morph into something that looked like a monster, how his eyes glowed brightly in the dark. It was both strengthening and terrifying to notice how much freer he felt as soon as the wolf side of him, the new, primitive part of him, took over. No more pain, no more struggle, just moving as his instincts told him to. 

There was a familiar trail in the air, two scents hardwired into his brain entwined together, forming a path that he followed with ease. The full moon shone down on him, a constant reminder of the strength that was flowing through him, the change he had gone through. In the distance, Scott could hear Laura following him, taking more care with where she ran but still in close pursuit, as if expecting someone to spring out on them. 

Scott reached a small clearing, where Allison’s jacket, the one she had been wearing just a short time earlier, was hanging from a loose branch. Derek stood a short distance away, watching carefully. His eyes flashed a bright blue colour, different to both his own and Laura’s. It unsettled Scott for a reason he wasn’t quite sure of. 

“Where is she?” he demanded.

“She’s safe, from you,” Derek replied, his voice insultingly calm. Scott found himself getting angry at how flippant he was being, and only some of that emotion being due to the full moon. Derek looked as though he was about to say something else but Laura was running over to them, looking stressed and angry. Scott cowered before he truly understood why, noting that Derek, no matter how strong he had appeared just before, doing the same. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Derek began but Laura cut him off.

“Later,” she said harshly. “Hunters. Close by. We need to go now. Scott stay with me.”

Her eyes flashed red, face shifting to match Scott’s, and she seemed the picture perfect representation of a predator. It was strange to see, but Scott still wasn’t thinking clearly enough to fully process it. Derek, who, just before, had seemed willing to spend all night arguing his point with his sister, looked ready to bolt at any minute, grabbing Allison’s jacket quickly. Scott knew what hunters were, Laura had explained the risk, the history, but now, having shifted on a full moon, in the middle of the woods, it suddenly felt all too real.

“I need you to stay with me, Scott,” she repeated, holding his arm. “Follow me and it’ll be okay. I promise. You haven’t hurt anyone, you’re a kid, they have no reason to hurt you.”

“They haven’t followed the code before,” Derek pointed out. Laura’s gaze hardened at that, seemingly aging her. 

“We’re not relying on them following the code. We’re going to leave before anything else can happen. Come on.”

Scott heard the sound of footsteps approaching and a blinding light went off. All three of them flinched, moving back, away from the supposed source. Laura grabbed his arm and they took off running. It was a different sort of adrenaline this time, not like when the shift was taking over him, not like on the lacrosse pitch. It was the sort of adrenaline when he was having a bad asthma attack and couldn’t get his inhaler out. The adrenaline of knowing he would die if he did the wrong thing at the wrong time. 

Another light went off, along with a loud, painful sound, and it drove the two of them apart. Scott took a few steps in a dazed way before trying to lean back on a tree, hoping for even the tiniest hint of what his surroundings were. A noise like a tight piece of string being strung sounded from behind him and a sharp pain went through his forearm, pinning him to the tree. He looked at his arm and saw an arrow, or something, piercing through it and then through the bark of the tree. A group of men approached slowly, weapons, crossbows and guns, at the ready.

The one at the front, the clear leader of the group, took a few extra steps closer, lowering his crossbow to get a better look. He was middle aged and completely unsympathetic and uncaring as Scott struggled to get breath in, the pain making him feel so pitifully weak. 

“Take him,” he said, voice calm and neutral, and Scott knew exactly what the short command meant.

One of the men, who was about to fire a shot, was thrown to the side suddenly, his partner startled and then thrown as well. As the leader was turning around to see what had happened, Laura appeared next to Scott, pulling out the arrow quickly, and pulling him along. They ran through the woods until they reached the end line, a road that led to Scott’s house. 

“Are you alright?” Laura asked, turning to him. “Here, let me have a look at your arm.”

She grasped his hand tightly, turning over to view the bloodied skin. Where there had been a hole shot clean through, there was no longer any sign of injury beyond the blood. She still took a close study of it before she allowed herself to look relieved.

“Derek, did they get you?” she asked, not letting go of Scott.

“No, I’m fine. I’ll head home. It’s safer if we split up.”

“Text me when you get home and stay in all weekend, I don’t care what plans you might have. I’ll walk Scott home. We’ll talk about what happened before, later.”

The last part was said as a threat, and Derek nodded slightly, before turning and walking in the opposite direction. Laura was still holding his arm, her grip not painful but still very strong. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked again. “Did anything else hit you? Cut you?”

“Just the arrow. They were hunters, weren’t they?”

“Yeah, they were,” Laura sighed. “Come on, I’ll tell you on the walk. When does your mum get home? I know you don’t want to tell her yet, so we’d probably better get back before her, otherwise it won’t be fun coming up with a story for why you’re coming home shirtless and covered in blood in the middle of the night after a party.”

“Yeah she’d probably freak out about that no matter what I told her.”

They walked in silence for a while, Laura giving Scott her jacket whilst she thought of how to explain it all to him without scarring him any more for the night. It would be difficult to explain under any circumstances, but with his friendship to Allison and being shot only a few minutes earlier, there was no easy way of telling him.

“You know the story about the silver bullet?” she started. Scott nodded at her. “Not exactly true. Silver doesn’t harm us like a poison or anything like that. I’m not saying it wouldn’t hurt to be shot with a silver bullet, but it isn’t, like, our kryptonite. If we got all of the pieces out, we would heal and by okay. The myth about silver being our weakness comes from main hunter family, whose name was silver. One of their own were turned, and they went bad, losing control and murdering people, a lot of whom were children. 

“So, someone took it upon themselves to end the curse their relative was living under, they formed their code by which they hunted, and they’ve been hunting us ever since,” Laura explained. “Their code is that they don’t kill children or humans, they only kill if they know for certain that they are killing a werewolf and, normally, they don’t kill unprovoked. Unless someone is going around attacking and biting people, they normally won’t notice, or care.”

“Their name is silver?” Scott asked, curiously.

“Yeah, they’re French, so it’s the French word for it,” she said. The realisation dawned on his face not even a moment later.

“Allison’s family.”

“Allison’s family. But probably not her, not this young. I’d put a lot of faith into the fact that she has no idea that werewolves are real, let alone that her family are hunters. You can trust her. And those people out there, they didn’t get a good look at you. No one else knows yet, I promise. You’ll be safe.”

They arrived at the McCall house. 

Stiles’ Jeep was still gone and the door was shut but unlocked. Scott walked inside, handing back the jacket and taking a few deep breaths. His phone was on the side, displaying several text messages from Stiles saying that Allison was fine, that he tried to smooth things over and that Allison’s mother definitely didn’t like him. The difficulties of the night were over, it seemed.

“Try and get some sleep,” Laura told him softly. “I know that’s probably the last thing your brain wants to do, but the second the adrenaline wears off and the sun rises, you will be so tired.”

“I’ll try.”

  
  


<>

  
  


“What happened?” Marin asked, looking up from her book in alarm as Laura came in through the front door, seemingly dead on her feet. “The last text you sent me was Scott had freaked out and was in his house.”

“He got freaked out again and left his house, went to the woods to try and find Derek who I’m probably going to have words with tomorrow, if I have the energy, and then … hunters,” Laura said, collapsing onto the sofa and practically falling into Marin’s arms. She scent-marked her neck a few more times than habit normally required, and sighed tiredly. “Scott got shot. A crossbow arrow through his arm. No poison or anything like that but still pretty traumatic for the poor kid.”

“I’m assuming you got him home safe?”

“Yeah, he’s back and no one got a good look at his face so we don’t have to worry about the hunters finding him. God, this is all becoming a mess.”

“I know, I know, but we’ll make it through. You helped him with his first full moon, an attack from hunters, and dealing with your brother. It’s pretty impressive.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna try and get some sleep before the sun’s up. Are you joining me now, or do you still want to finish your book?”

“No, I’ll join you. The book was just to keep me busy whilst I was waiting for you to get home. I think you might need a shower, though, you’ve got some blood on you.”

They didn’t move for a little while longer, Laura cuddled into Marin’s side, waiting to calm down enough to actually sleep. The full moon no longer had enough strength to really influence her, though it did little to help, but Laura buried her face into Marin’s shoulder to hide from it anyway. She listened to her wife’s steady heartbeat, focused on the warmth of her hands rubbing circles into her back.

“Come on, let’s get you upstairs,” Marin said finally, words getting slightly cut off by a yawn. Laura nodded and followed her up, functioning on autopilot. 

“I love you,” she mumbled as she got ready for the shower.

“Love you too. I’ll be just in here.”


	19. Wolf Moon Part Nineteen

Laura got out of the shower, towelling off her hair slowly, and tried to take a few deep breaths. The water had helped, it seemed, the older and more mature she got, that showers tended to fix a lot of problems, but now she was stuck in her own head again. In the bedroom, Marin’s heartbeat and breathing had evened out enough to indicate she was asleep and Laura didn’t want to wake her up, especially if she’d been staying up worried for her earlier. She couldn’t get over the feeling of washing off Scott’s blood from her arm. He probably would have had to do the same. It was a horrifying thought.

Eventually she changed into a pair of threadbare leggings and one of Marin’s oversized sleep shirts and left the bathroom, knowing she needed at least some sleep for the next day. 

Sprawled on the bed, half on Laura’s side, Marin lay, hugging Laura’s pillow close to her chest. There was no point trying to get onto her own side, there wasn’t enough room, and she wouldn’t be able to get her pillow back without waking her wife up. Laura slid under the covers on Marin’s side, immediately melting into the curve of her back, face pressed against her neck, and wrapped her arms around the other woman’s waist. Marin hummed contentedly and, thankfully, stayed asleep. They had plenty of time to talk in the morning, she reasoned, and it would probably be easier to put her anxieties into words when she wasn’t as sleep-deprived. 

  
  


<>

  
  


Scott tossed and turned in his bed, the sheets becoming knotted and twisted around him, trapping his legs, and the sensation only served to make him more panicked. The sun was slowly rising, only the faintest morning light, but it felt like he was still stuck under the full moon’s influence, the monster inside of him desperate to get out. 

His mum had gotten home only half an hour after he had, clearly tired and so had gone straight to bed. The car still wasn’t there, a colleague had dropped Melissa off, and Scott would have to go back and get it before she woke up. He could probably use the excuse that he went to go fill it up, since he didn’t have the chance to the night before, and she would probably like that better than thinking he had been out the entire night. 

But then he would be telling even more lies and Scott wasn’t sure he could manage that. 

He had gone in the shower for the third time that day to wash off the blood that was on his arm. Even though the hole from the arrow had healed, it was still tender to the touch, almost as if there was a bruise forming. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in danger, he’d had severe asthma his entire life, but it was the first time where the threat to his life was somebody else actively trying to kill him as opposed to an condition that he had, that no one had caused.

Scott had read through Stiles’ text, relieved that Allison had gotten home okay, though clearly not with her jacket, and texted his friend in turn, saying that he had gotten home and thanking him for checking. He didn’t get a reply, but it had been at nearly two when he felt ready to read through them, and Stiles would have been asleep by then. Stiles was  _ hopefully _ asleep by then, after the night they had. 

It felt too soon and too raw and unprocessed to tell Stiles about the hunters. Being a werewolf still felt unreal, despite his actions, and the idea of someone hating him and hunting because of what someone else had done to him, though it wasn’t like he knew nothing about prejudiced hate, was still very alien. People no longer considered him human because of what someone, Laura’s uncle, had done to him. 

There was no wave of guilt when he thought of Peter as a monster.

He had tried to murder his niece, he had attacked Scott in the woods and left him there for somebody else to deal with, and there was no reason in existence that could excuse those actions, no matter what was going through his mind. Laura seemed genuinely upset that he had been dragged into this new and strange world and as great as it was to be first line on the lacrosse team, at this point, not even a week in, Scott would go back to fruitless dreaming and suffering with asthma. It was better to be overlooked and ignored than actively sought out to be murdered. 

He closed his eyes and tried, again, to go to sleep. He could sort things out in the morning.

  
  


<>

  
  


The sun was painfully bright when Laura opened her eyes the next day. Marin was still pressed against her, still holding her pillow hostage as well, but based on the amount of sunshine filtering through their mostly closed curtains, it was nearing midday. Closing her eyes again, she shifted closer to her wife, hoping for at least a few more minutes of dozing before needing to get up and be productive. Laura didn’t quite get what she wanted.

“Morning,” Marin mumbled sleepily, the pillow being drawn closer to her chest. “Why are you on my side?”

“Well, you were on most of my side so I thought it was only fair,” Laura teased softly. Marin lifted her head and looked at where they were both positioned, flopping back down with an apologetic smile. “Plus, you stole my pillow.”

“Smells like you,” she shrugged. “I didn’t realise I fell asleep so quickly.”

“Yeah, you sounded like you were gone when I’d literally just gotten into the shower,” Laura agreed. They moved around so they could be facing each other properly, Marin putting the pillow back, and greeted each other with a soft kiss, noses brushing together affectionately. “Love you.”

“Love you too. What time is it?”

“Let me check,” Laura said, reaching blindly for her phone. “Just after half ten. We’ve slept in pretty late. Derek’s staying in today, I think the thing with the hunters got him pretty freaked so he’s actually listening to me. I’ll probably head over there at about two-ish to talk to him.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Marin said, making no effort to move from the warmth of their bed. Laura didn’t particularly want to move either. They kissed again, smiling against each other after a few seconds, and their legs entwined instinctively. Marin played with the hem of Laura’s shirt, fingers brushing over soft skin. “Does it feel like your stomach is fully healed?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Laura replied, moving her shirt, Marin’s shirt, technically, up to show the line of scar tissue that wrapped around her middle and most of her back. After getting a small nod, Marin reached out and touched it gently, probing for any sign of irritation around the scar. “I can barely feel that, you know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“It must go down quite deep,” Marin mused, tensing up at the idea. “We might need to get Alan to check, just to make sure nothing internally is still healing, or injured.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

  
  


<>

  
  


Scott made sure to get up extra early, ran to get the car without anyone he knew seeing him and managed to fill up the tank before his mum woke up. It felt like some sort of miracle when he crashed back into bed, the sheets not even fully cold from when he had left. Somewhere in his gut, guilt was building up about not telling his mum what was going on, alongside the fear of what telling her would make her think. It was the first time he had ever doubted, even a little bit, that she could love him no matter what. 

He had acted like a monster the night before, he had wanted to hurt his best friend and a woman who had done nothing but help him, had known he would have enjoyed hurting the two of them, hurting anyone who came across his path. People had hunted him down and before the fear set in, a small part of him was desperate for a fight. Scott had been horrified at himself for the changes. He’d never started a fight, hardly started arguments, and never fought back when he was jostled around by the other kids at school. With his asthma, it might have even done him more damage. He didn’t like hurting people, didn’t like it when people got hurt, and guilt ate him alive when he saw it.

“Did you have a good night?” Melissa asked as she stuck her head through his open door. “You must have gotten back pretty late, the car was still gone when I got back.”

“Ups and downs,” Scott replied, and that, at least, was honest. “The tank is full.”

“That’s great, perfect. I’m gonna have to go back to work in a couple of hours to cover Maggie’s shift, but we can have breakfast together, if you want.”

“It sounds great,” he replied. At least she wasn’t asking about the party. “Why can’t Maggie work today?”

“Oh, her daughter, Sophie, you know her, about ten now, I think, she’s unwell and since Mark’s out of town, Maggie’s looking after her. It’s only a short shift, I’ll be back before dinner, so long as it’s a late dinner and then you can tell me all about the party.”

Fuck. 


	20. Wolf Moon Part Twenty

The entire school day, Scott hadn’t had a chance to see Allison. They didn’t have English that day and her and Lydia seemed to be attached at the hip, despite what had happened at the party. Scott didn’t want to explain everything with an audience watching him, knowing his nerves about it would make him mess up his words and make things even worse. The good news was that he had lacrosse practice after school, meaning, if he made sure he got changed quickly, he would have a chance to catch her before she went home.

Maths, which he shared with Lydia, making it all the more uncomfortable, finished a minute early as well, which gave him time to race the changing rooms and throw on his equipment. Scott wasn’t sure he’d gotten changed that quickly ever, not even when coach threatened to make them do suicide runs for two hours if they took too long. Sat on the bench waiting for her to approach, his nerves mounted as though he was doing it with an audience anyway. It might have been better with an audience; it would have been earlier, and the earlier an apology the better, and at least he would have a reason to be this nervous. 

He jiggled his leg, like how Stiles did when his meds were wearing off. 

“So, what happened? You left me stranded at the party,” Allison said, walking past him. Scott got up quickly. 

“Yeah, I know, I know. I’m really sorry, I am. But you’re gonna have to trust that I had a really good reason,” he explained, wishing he had caught up on what excuse Stiles had given Allison. The text thread had only really detailed that she was safe and her mum now hated Stiles. It was good information to know, but not too relevant at that point.

“Stiles mentioned you were going through something,” she replied. “Like a panic attack or something?”

“Kinda similar, yeah. It’s a bit hard to explain,” he fumbled. It had felt like how Stiles described his panic attacks from a few years ago. “But, I promise, I would have much rather been with you. Believe me.”

“Am I gonna get an explanation, ever?”

Fear jolted in his stomach, the idea of telling someone with a family of hunters what he was settling like a stone, and he fought to keep himself calm. Allison didn’t know; she wanted to know why she had been ditched at the party, which was more than reasonable.

“Can you find it in your heart to trust me on this one?” he asked, pleadingly. “I promise I’ll explain it when I can.”

“Am I gonna regret this?”

“Probably,” Scott admitted. Allison thankfully saw the joke for what it was and laughed. “Is that a yes on a second chance?”

“Definitely yes,” she said. “Besides, Lydia gave me a ride home and spent the entire time complaining about Jackson and how she wasn’t getting back with him ever again, so it wasn’t too terrible.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t a completely terrible night for you,” he told her sincerely. 

A car horn honked loudly, coming from a red car parking up in the pick up zone. Allison looked over to it and recognition flashed in her eyes, along with a little bit of disappointment.

“That’s my dad,” she said apologetically. “I better go.”

Scott watched her go, her dad climbing out of the driver’s side to let her in. He saw his face, the same face of the person who had shot him in the arm only a few days previously, the same face of the person who had given an order to have him murdered in the woods, and fear filled his entire body. Instead of recognising him, instead of pulling out another weapon, he gave a small smile of acknowledgement to someone who was a friend of his daughter. Scott waved goodbye, not wanting to seem as though he was just staring. 

He was still stood there when the car drove away, and only made his way back to the changing rooms when most of the other students around him had gone home. 

  
  


<>

  
  


“Hey,” Laura greeted cheerfully over the phone, smiling as she walked through the front door. “I’ve just got in.”

“Really?” Marin asked. “That’s later than normal.”

“Yeah, I just needed to talk about a client with Jonathon, and he just does not shut up. I got what I needed out of him, though, and so I should be finished with the case earlier than I expected which bodes well. How was your day?”

“Okay, actually. We’re down a teacher for Well-Being Club tonight, Marcus had to go home sick at about lunchtime, but we’ll cope. It’s a quieter bunch than last term, thank god, so we probably don’t even need all of us there.”

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

“Exactly. We’ll probably be finished about five, so I’ll be home about half past.”

“Sounds good, do you want dinner for then or a little bit later?”

“For then, I’m starving, thanks.”

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Laura put her bag down heavily, pulling out her laptop. Dinner would only take about thirty minutes to get ready, and Marin normally sent a text to say when she was leaving anyway, which left her time to get a little bit of work done. They both knew all about how bringing work home wasn’t particularly healthy, Marin was a psychologist after all, but they both also knew it wasn’t a habit they could break particularly easily. And it wasn’t like it was a difficult case to get through, it was pretty open and shut. 

There were still a few texts from Derek that she hadn’t quite wrapped her head around. He had apologised for his actions on Friday night, almost the second she had gone over to his apartment, but he was still adamant that Laura was going about training wrong. Normally she would listen to his advice, but he was too closely involved with it all, and he had little to no understanding of how to train a Beta, beyond what he had needed. Their mum had taught Laura how to help new Betas, both bitten and born, as part of her Alpha training and though it had been cut painfully short, she still knew better than an emotionally compromised Derek. 

Scott was doing better after Friday night, thankfully. He had spent most of Saturday at home, apparently, though he had been on Skype with his friend nearly the entire time, so it wasn’t like he was alone. Then on Sunday, he had worked a shift with Deaton and after the clinic had closed, they had gone through more breathing techniques. All he had to focus on was finding an anchor and keeping his cool. After the hunters attacked, he wasn’t desperate to learn much else about werewolves for the time being. 

Her laptop pinged, signalling a work email.

‘Hey, Laura, the sheriff sent over a few pictures for us, he thinks it might have something to do with the supposed attack in the woods last week. He thinks it might be a cult or something. Is there anything similar to them in the cult case you worked with Lloyd last year, the one with the cats? He asked to try and keep it quiet-he doesn’t want anyone in town getting freaked out. Thanks-Webber.’

Attached were pictures of two deer, each with a spiral cut into their side. Peter, refusing to be forgotten, was still looking for his revenge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First episode is finished! Thanks for everyone who has been reading, I hope you've enjoyed it.


	21. Second Chance at First Line Part One

Scott ran to the changing rooms, his breath coming quickly as panic overtook him. He had thought he would be able to cope with the man looking at him, Scott’s face had been that of a monster at that time, and Laura promised no one would have been able to recognise him, but it sent a terror-inducing fear deep in his bones and made his arm ache with an injury that was long gone. He collapsed backwards against one of the lockers, tugging off his kit, next to where Stiles was still finishing getting ready. 

“Did you apologise to Allison?”

“Yeah.”

“So, is she giving you a second chance or …”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah! Alright, so everything’s good!” Stiles cheered happily.

“No.”

“No?” he asked, poking his head round to look at Scott in confusion.

“Remember the hunters? Her dad is one of them. Her whole family are hunters.”

“Her dad?”

“Shot me …”

“Alison’s father?”

“With a crossbow,” Scott finished and he could feel the horror that Stiles was experiencing at the news. Whilst it was good to know that his friend understood his plight, it wasn’t doing much to help ease his nerves about it all. 

“Allison’s father?” Stiles checked again, disbelievingly. Scott lost it.

“Yes, her father!” he yelled. Desperation and fear broke his anger immediately. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

Stiles rushed over, swatting at his face with a mitted hand, trying to get Scott to listen to him, to break him out of whatever spiral he was in. “No, Scott, come on, snap back. You okay? Hey, alright. He didn’t recognise you, right?”

“No, no, no, I don’t think so …”

“Does she know about him?”

“Laura says probably not, they don’t start training hunters until they’re older, but I don’t know man, this is gonna kill me.”

The last call whistle blew, which meant if they didn’t get out onto the pitch within thirty seconds, Scott would not only have to contend with the problems with the hunters and getting shot in the arm but also suicide runs and coach’s anger, which was always worse on the first real day of practices. 

“Okay, just focus on lacrosse, okay? Here, Scott, take this,” Stiles told him firmly, handing him the equipment he had dumped on the floor upon his arrival. “Take this and focus on lacrosse for now, okay? That’s all you gotta do.”

Scott made his way to the pitch, just to hear coach blowing the whistle again. Thankfully, he wasn’t announcing suicide runs, nor was he berating anyone for being too late. “Let’s go! One-on-ones from up top. Jackson, take a long stick today. Attaboy.”

That meant he was a defender, and based on Scott’s show at tryouts, Scott was probably going to have to go against him. Just what he needed for the first practice after his arm was impaled to a tree in the middle of the night. The whistle blew and practice began, passes being made, players tackling each other again and again, coach’s ‘reflex training’ which was ‘whoever caught the ball first didn’t have to get tackled as hard’ and Scott did his best to stay focused. Previously, practice had involved him focusing on keeping his breathing as steady as he could, not wanting to trigger an attack when everyone could see him. Now, Scott was keeping his breathing steady to prevent a different attack. 

He didn’t want to feel the way he felt last night ever again. 

“Greenberg, take a lap,” coach ordered as Scott approached the front of the queue, knowing that Jackson was waiting on the other end. “Faster, Greenberg! Let’s go McCall, what are you waiting for?”

Scott ran towards Jackson, trying to hold himself back, not wanting to show off his new abilities anymore, not now he knew what the price of them were. He’d go back to severe asthma and sitting on the bench if it meant he wasn’t at risk of losing control and hurting someone. Jackson shouldered into him, lifting him off his feet before Scott felt himself slamming into the ground. Now that his lungs were stronger, it no longer felt like he was a second away from dying, now he knew what being a second away from dying felt like, but it didn’t feel good.

“Hey, McCall,” coach laughed, unkindly. Scott wasn’t sure coach did many things kindly. 

“You sure you still want to be first line, McCall?” Jackson taunted, a smirk on his face. 

“My grandmother can move faster than that and she’s dead,” coach continued, laughing, and bending down to Scott’s level. “You think you can move faster than the lifeless corpse of my dead grandmother?”

“Yes, coach,” Scott said through gritted teeth, feeling his heartbeat rising. 

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, coach,” he repeated, louder, aggression running through his veins. Scott could feel his eyes turning a golden colour, teeth elongating slightly in his mouth, and he fought to keep control. He could do it. He survived tryouts, he did great in tryouts, and he’d survived years of Jackson’s taunting. 

“Then do it again,” coach ordered. Scott got up and jogged over to the front of the line. Stiles was stood there, looking worried. “McCall’s going to do it again! McCall’s going to do it again!”

The whistle blew and Scott went off running again, charging towards Jackson. He could see the cocky smirk on the other boy’s face, could see how Jackson doubted Scott could really do anything to him, despite his performance during tryouts. It just spurred his anger on. Scott crashed into Jackson sending him flying onto the ground and he could hear the painful thud as the other boy landed on his shoulder. Jackson had never had a severe injury, he was smart enough with warm ups and cool downs, unlike some of the team, and he was good enough to play carefully, and Scott was fairly certain he had just ruined his perfect record. 

Scott fell to his knees, clutching his head.

He felt happy about causing Jackson pain, for just the briefest moment, and the fear that went through him at the realisation took him out. He didn’t feel like himself anymore, it was like the full moon was still there. People were rushing over, Scott could sense Stiles coming over. Jackson was still lying on the floor, breathing heavily, with a pained groan. Coach had knelt next to him, stopping him from being swarmed by people, which probably would be the worst thing for that kind of injury. Depending on how Jackson had landed, even the tiniest movement in his arm could cause immense pain.

“Scott,” Stiles said in relief, crouching over him, hiding him from the, thankfully, distracted crowd. Scott breathed heavily. 

“I can’t control it, Stiles, it’s happening.”

“What? Right here? Now? Come on. Get up. Go.”

He was practically dragged to the empty changing room, where he’d been freaking out not even ten minutes before, and Scott collapsed against a wall, feeling his nails stretching out into claws.

“Sit down. You okay?” Stiles asked, frantically trying to catch his eye. “Scott, you okay?”

“Get away from me!” Scott yelled, eyes glowing and fangs protruding. He didn’t want to hurt anyone else, not after hurting Jackson, not after being hunted like he was some monster. Stiles jumped back, falling to the floor in shock. He’d seen Scott at the full moon, he’d seen what he looked like once shifted, but there was a difference between seeing his friend when shifted and in pain and seeing his friend when shifted and threatening. 

Scott felt the last little bits of his self control falling away, and the monster from the full moon, the monster that wanted to hurt his best friend, that wanted to hurt anyone it came across, took control. He growled and leapt on top of the lockers, making the jump as though it was nothing. Stiles flinched back again. His vision changed, becoming similar to how a predator would hunt their prey, and it made him sick on the inside.

Stiles continue to scramble around, not leaving the room, but not coming close enough to him to be hurt.

Just as Scott had him cornered, his back to the wall, Stiles grabbed the fire extinguisher and sprayed him. The effect was similar to that of the cold shower, shocking him enough to take back control. He sat down on the bench and tore off his helmet. Scott could feel his heartbeat coming down and his aggression and anger was replaced with horror and fear. He had attacked his best friend, he had wanted to kill his best friend, he wanted to kill people. It was becoming too much.

“Stiles,” Scott gasped weakly. Stiles stuck his head round the corner from where he had run to. “I don’t know what happened.”

The fire extinguisher fell to the floor with a clang. 

“You tried to kill me,” Stiles said, throwing his gloves to the side. He smelt strongly of fear. “It’s what Laura said, isn’t it? It’s the anger, it’s your pulse rising. It’s a trigger.

“But that’s lacrosse. It’s a pretty violent game, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Well, it’s going to be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field. I know Laura has faith in you, I do too, but she said don’t go out of your comfort zone. I don’t think the game this Saturday is in your comfort zone anymore.”


	22. Second Chance at First Line Part Two

“Smells good,” Marin said appreciatively as she walked in through the door, Laura finishing up setting out the plates. They kissed briefly in greeting, Laura’s arm wrapping around her wife’s waist to hold her close for a few extra seconds, before breaking apart slightly. “Did you have a good day? You feel a little tense.”

“I got an email just after our call earlier,” Laura began, holding onto Marin’s belt loops slightly nervously, “About the cult case I worked last year.”

“The one where people were sacrificing cats on that makeshift altar in the preserve?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Did something go wrong?”

“Not for that case, no, those people aren’t getting out for a long time, thank god. No, the sheriff emailed us about the case, because more deer have been found with spirals cut into their sides. Peter’s building up to something, I can just feel it, and I’m worried he’s going to use Scott for whatever it is.”

She moved closer to Marin again, scent-marking her neck before pressing a small kiss there, and sighed heavily. Everything was beginning to weigh down on her, piling on and on. She had a murderous uncle on the loose, hunters in town, a newly bitten beta and a little brother still working through his trauma. Laura took a few deep breaths, filled with Marin’s reassuring scent, and felt her heartbeat calm down.

“It’ll be alright,” Marin whispered, running a hand through her hair. “We’ve just got to wait it out, that’s all. And you’ve always got me.”

“Love you,” Laura replied, kissing her neck again. She straightened back up, looking her wife in the eye with a small, and shifted her hands to rest on her waist. “You ready for dinner?”

Marin nodded. They went into the kitchen, Laura staying within arms reach of Marin almost subconsciously, and sat down at the table to eat. As it was a Monday and Marin was in charge of the wellbeing club on those days, it was Laura’s turn to make dinner and do most of the afternoon chores, whilst on Thursdays when Laura always had a meeting at the end of the day, it was Marin’s turn. It was a useful system that they could adjust when needed. Marin was fairly certain they would be adjusting it quite a bit in the near future.

“So, the sheriff still thinks it’s a cult thing?” Marin prompted when they’d been eating in silence for a few minutes, having watched Laura’s brow wrinkle further and further with worry.

“At the moment, yeah. Given the town’s history and how weird it is to people who don’t know what it means, it’s not exactly a stupid idea, but it does mean there’s going to be more police looking into things than what normally happens when hunters are in town.”

“He’s still not gone to Alan yet,” she added.

“Yeah, apparently he doesn’t want too many people knowing about it. That’s probably why he’s waiting to bring in one of the police dogs, that way he has a reason to go in and it won’t be as strange to see the sheriff at the clinic.”

“Stilinski wasn’t sheriff when the hunters got one of Ennis’ pack, was he?”

“I don’t think he was sheriff, but he was definitely on the force, mum mentioned it. If he saw the spiral in the old warehouse back then, he’ll probably notice there’s a connection. Which is great,” Laura said sarcastically. “You know, when we were kids, Peter was probably the biggest supporter of ‘do whatever it takes to keep the secret’, but now it’s like he wants people to find out.”

“If people find out, the hunters get free reign of anyone supernatural in the town. He might find it easier to use other people to get rid of them. It’s not like we don’t know that he’s given up on family.”

The last part was said a little harsher than the rest and Laura felt rather than saw how Marin’s eyes glanced down to her stomach, where the scar rested. Thankfully, despite what Laura had said only a few nights previously, she was slowly regaining the ability to feel when something was touching the scar.

“Yeah,” she agreed slowly. Laura paused for a moment then decided to change the subject. It seemed like every time they talked it came back to the same subject. “Did everything go alright with wellbeing club?”

“As good as it can be,” Marin shrugged. “A lot of them have been attending for a while now, so we didn’t have to do any more of those god awful ice breakers.”

“Are they still as stupid as the ones we used to have to do?”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’ve ever been changed. Last week was bad enough as it was. Since it’s been the same thing every term for some of them just did not want to do it.”

“What did you do?”

“They had to try and guess the answer before the person speaking gave it. Made the ice breaker slightly more interesting, I guess, but not really the point.”

Laura hummed in acknowledgement. She shifted in her seat, resting her foot next to Marin’s, and pushed her food around on the plate. The idea of the wellbeing club, something that had existed when they had both attended the high school, though very different to how it was run now, had given her something else to think about.

“Do you think we should suggest to Scott to attend the wellbeing club?” she asked. “You do the breathing exercises and stuff that can be helpful, and he was just attacked by a literal monster from nightmares, so there’s going to be some things he’ll need to process. And his friend, Stiles, he’s got ADHD hasn’t he? Doesn’t that mean he has to go to at least one meeting a week? Isn’t that a school requirement?”

“Yes, he goes to a lunchtime one so it doesn’t interfere with lacrosse. How did you know that?”

“He always smells like the medication for it, so either he has it or we should probably mention something to his dad. Might be good for him, especially if his friend is already there.”

“It’s a good idea,” Marin said, thinking it over. “It would definitely help him, if he wants to do it, and it will mean the school know to be a little more lenient with him.”

Once they had finished dinner, plates and cutlery put away, they settled onto the sofa, tv playing quietly in the background as they continued a rundown of their days. Marin had only had a few classes and they had all been rather subdued, though everyone tended to be subdued on Mondays. It was too early in the term for tests of any kind and Marin preferred to only set the bare minimum, just to make sure the kids were actually learning what they needed to at the end of each module. Laura was caught up on the work she had missed whilst recovering the week before, and since there were currently no new cases to work through and only a handful of current cases that were pretty cut and dry the team had gone out to lunch.

“You sure it doesn’t hurt?” Marin asked quietly, curled up in Laura’s lap, as her fingers brushed over the thick line of scar tissue on her wife’s stomach. 

“Positive,” she replied, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Although it does tickle a bit so your seat is about to become very uncomfortable if you don’t stop.”

Marin laughed softly but stopped her ministrations, instead shifting her position to wrap her arms around Laura’s neck, peppering kisses there. Laura grinned and leaned in to kiss her properly, her grip on Marin’s waist tightening ever so slightly to pull her closer. They smiled against each other, breaking the kiss as they did so, before moving in together again.

Derek came in through the door.

“There’s a problem,” he announced.

“Yes, you don’t knock,” Laura replied grumpily, pulling back from Marin who looked equally unimpressed with the situation. “I know we gave you a key so you could come over when needed but would it kill you to tell us before just showing up?”

“Sorry,” Derek said, looking very sincere. Laura had to admit that he probably was very sincere because he had to walk in on his older sister making out with her wife and she would probably feel the same is she walked in on him making out with someone, but it was her living room and what was supposed to be a quiet night in so she remained a little grumpy. “Scott lost control at lacrosse practice today.”

“Did he get hurt?” Laura asked quickly, on high alert.

“No, he’s fine. Hit that Whittemore kid pretty hard in a tackle and hurt his arm, but it wasn’t anything ridiculous. The tackle they had just before would have given Scott the same injury if he had been human. The sheriff’s kid got him into the changing rooms, sprayed him with a fire extinguisher to calm him down. Practice got cancelled since Whittemore’s captain and coach had to take him to the hospital.”

“The hospital?” Marin repeated, looking very worried.

“It was probably just to make sure nothing was broken,” Laura reassured. “There’s not a lot of damage Scott can do with a human-looking tackle. I hope.”


	23. Second Chance at First Line

Scott got home and collapsed onto his bed, bag dumped somewhere on the floor from when he walked in, lying face down on the cover. He stayed there for only a few seconds when he heard his mum approaching, knocking on the door as she came in. Scott lifted his head to greet her, noting she was in her scrubs for work. 

“Hey. Late shift again for me,” Melissa said by way of explanation. “But I am taking Saturday off to see your first game.”

“No, mum, you can’t,” he protested. 

“Oh, no, I can and I will,” she replied firmly. “Come on, one shift isn’t going to break us. Not completely. Hey, what’s wrong with your eyes?”

Jerking up suddenly, Scott’s mind was filled with images of his eyes glowing, of his mum running away from him, terrified of the monster he was becoming. Melissa didn’t look scared, though, just concerned, in the same way she was when she found him up too late studying after a long shift. 

“You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“Uh, it’s nothing. I’m just stressed,” Scott explained, and he definitely wasn’t lying. 

“Just stress? Nothing else?”

“Homework.”

“I mean, it’s not like you’re on drugs or anything, right?”

There were a lot of people talking about drugs, apparently. Stiles forgot to take his adderall last week, Jackson thought he might be on steroids, Jackson might be on steroids, his mum thought he was on drugs. Scott was getting a little tired of it, and they hadn’t even had the horrifically oversimplified, patronising ‘say no to drugs’ assembly that term yet.

“Right now?” he joked. He regretted it immediately.

“Right now?” Melissa repeated and Scott thought it might be better if she found out he was a werewolf instead of on drugs. She had a pretty hardline against it. “I’m sorry, what do you mean, ‘right now’? Have you ever taken drugs?”

“Have you?”

Melissa paused slightly, clearly trying to come up with a counterpoint to that. Scott didn’t actually think his mum had done drugs before but after that he definitely did. “Get some sleep.”

With that, he was left to his own devices. 

Two of which were beeping. 

He had gotten a text from Laura, wanting to confirm that he was going over to the clinic to practice control some more, and there was an incoming video call from Stiles on his laptop. Scott answered the call, Stiles with a light up toy gun greeting him joyfully. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly. Losing control and his earlier freak out about Allison had been an adrenaline rush and now he was getting to enjoy coming down from it. 

“What did you find out?” 

“Well, it’s bad,” Stiles began, not at all matching up with how he started the call, but that wasn’t anything new. “Jackson’s got a separated shoulder.”

“Because of me?” he asked in horror.

“Because he’s a tool,” Stiles corrected. 

“But is he gonna play?”

“Oh, they don’t know yet. Now they’re just counting on you for Saturday.”

“I don’t know if I can play; not after what I did at practice,” Scott sighed.

“I know, buddy, I know. You’re meeting with Laura again tonight, aren’t you? She used to play, her name’s on like half the trophies in the cupboards, maybe she can help.”

“Hopefully. My mum’s booked Saturday off work so she can watch. Backing out now would be the worst.”

“She excited?”

“Very. She also might think I’m on drugs. She also might have done drugs once. I didn’t get a chance to ask anymore questions about that until she left.”

“It’ll work as a good distraction if she does start to suspect something.”

Scott sighed. 

He was so tired. A week ago he had been human, had known nothing about the supernatural part of the world, his biggest concerns were making first line without destroying his already weak lungs. Now his biggest concerns were losing control and mauling anyone who had the misfortune of coming near him. A very big adjustment to make in not very much time. And now he was lying to his mum, he was seriously hurting people in lacrosse, he was too tired to even think about starting on the slowly growing mountain of homework. 

“I’ve gotta get going soon to meet Laura at the clinic,” Scott said. “I’ll text you when I finish and get home.”

“You wanna have pizza? Dad’s working late.”

“No, I need to finish my chemistry essay. And revise for the maths test. And start my history homework. Oh god, this is going to kill me. No hunters needed.”

“You’ll be fine.”

  
  


<>

  
  


“How has he been?” Laura asked as she helped Alan close down the clinic. “Derek says he lost control at practice today. You know Scott best out of us; do you think he’s coping?”

“As well as he can,” Alan replied. “It’s a lot for just one week, especially after what happened on Friday. That’s enough for anyone, let alone a sixteen-year-old kid.”

“Yeah. I can’t remember when we were first attacked by hunters. I know something happened the night one of Ennis’ pack were killed, but I was in New York by that point. Didn’t something happen when I was five?”

“The Calaveras came into town for a while, so your mother didn’t let anyone leave unless they had to for work or for school. She asked for us to keep Marin away, to make sure we weren’t connected at all.”

There was the sound of a bike approaching the clinic, undoubtedly Scott. Not a lot of people went to the vets on a bike, for a multitude of obvious reasons. Laura fell silent again, glancing over her notes for the session. Most of it was just practicing breathing exercises again, to figure out which one would work best for keeping his control, and trying to find what his anchor would be, the most pressing matters at hand. This time, however, they would be practicing the shift. She hadn’t realised before, since she was a born werewolf with a werewolf family, that the change in Scott’s appearance would be so terrifying, since it would seem so alien.

“Hello,” Scott called out.

“In here, Scott,” Alan replied. “Examining room.”

“Hi.”

He looked exhausted, and Laura was willing to bet that it wasn’t all because of his freak out at lacrosse practice.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, fine.”

His heartbeat increased at the obvious lie, but Laura chose not to mention it. For one, she didn’t think he knew about that particular trick yet and it was one best saved for a more fun session, and, two, if he wanted to pretend he was okay, Laura was going to let him have it. She would just have to find a different way of getting him to rest. 

“Alright, good. Do you remember what we practiced yesterday?”

“Yeah, the box method one, right?”

“Uh huh. This time it’s going to be a bit different. We’re going to practice shifting with breathing. To help you to get used to how it feels, so you can recognise where your control is, and where you need to focus.”

Scott nodded and Laura felt a wave of guilt at asking the kid to do anything. They had planned for the session to be about two hours but she was already coming up with ideas to cut it short and send him home early. There was no way that he would know she was making it up, Laura hoped. 

“What do I have to do?”

“Just sit down, we’ll talk you through it, okay?”

He did as told, sitting on the floor a little heavily, mirroring Laura’s position. Really, it would be easier if they were standing, but Laura reasoned that it would do Scott good to sit down for a while. Alan sat in one of the chairs kept safely in the corner, watching them both carefully. It wasn’t common practice for the pack’s emissary to help train new betas, it wasn’t common practice for most of the pack to know the pack’s emissary, but Alan was family first, to the both of them. 

“We’ll start with the breathing for a little bit. In for four, hold for four, out for four, then repeat. To set a baseline for your heartbeat, keeping you relaxed.”

For a few minutes, they practiced the breathing technique and Laura watched as the tension in Scott’s shoulders began to dissipate. It wasn’t just the continuous struggles of keeping control in the world’s worst climate for being a werewolf, it had completely changed everything he knew about the world.

“Okay, you’re doing good. Now, do you remember how it feels when your eyes begin to glow? Do you think you could put it into words?”

“It’s like they burn, but it’s not painful, not really.”

“What I want you to do, is to try and let your eyes glow, without anything else changing. I’ll do it with you, so you can see it.”

Laura let her eyes take on the red glow she had possessed for ten years. She watched as Scott flinched a little, confirming her belief that the sight of the shift was still scared him, and tried to smile reassuringly. He clenched his fists, tension across his face, and the beginnings of a golden yellow glow began to spark in his irises. Scott’s breathing had grown much more strained, struggling to match each of the movements to the times.

“That’s good, can you try and make your eyes go back to normal, now?”

The glow disappeared almost in an instant, and Scott relaxed. “Was that alright?”

“Yeah, you did really, really good. We’ll practice it a few more times so you can get used to it, and then we’ll practice with fangs,” Laura replied. She exchanged a look with Alan. “I’m a bit sorry, but we might have to cut the session short tonight, I need to get home a little earlier. Is that alright?”

“It’s alright.”


	24. Second Chance at First Line Part Four

As much as he hated to admit it, Scott had been pretty relieved when Laura had said she needed to finish the session early the night before. Briefly he worried if there was a problem, but logic said that it was probably her just having an early start in the morning, or something to finish for her job. Adult things. He’d told Laura he was planning on dropping out of the game on Saturday and though she’d seemed a little disappointed in his behalf, she’d promised to help him out to the point where he’d be okay for the next one. Now Scott had a much bigger problem.

Coach.

It wasn’t that coach was cruel on purpose. He was, that just wasn’t the point. It was that he was very competitive and very, very committed to the game. More so than teaching economics which was his actual subject. And since Scott had impressed him so much in try-outs, and taken out the captain of the team, he was probably expecting Scott to be able to play on Saturday. 

“What do you mean you can’t play the game tomorrow night?” coach asked in disgust, walking into his office. Scott followed suit, lacrosse stick slung across his back, no longer a comforting weight but a guilty reminder of what was happening to him. 

“I mean, I can’t play the game tomorrow night,” he replied, not entirely sure how else to put it, and not thinking that coach could misunderstand it.

“You can’t wait to play the game tomorrow night?”

Scott was wrong.

“No, coach, I can’t play the game tomorrow night.”

“I’m not following.”

Scott took a deep breath. His heartbeat was steady, faster than he would have liked, but steady and under his control. It just had to be a simple conversation, he wouldn’t have to give too much away, just give coach a good enough reason to not play that one game on Saturday. He’d spent all week trying to come up with one, talking to Stiles about it, and they’d mostly decided.

“I’m having some personal issues,” he admitted. 

“Is it a girl?”

“No.”

“Is it a guy? You know, our goalie Danny’s gay,” coach pointed out. Everyone knew that; Danny was the first kid in their year to come out, and, even if he wasn’t, everyone loved Danny. 

“Yeah I know, coach. But that’s not it.”

“You don’t think Danny’s a good-looking guy?” coach continued, as though he hadn’t heard Scott’s reply. The way some of his economics lessons went, Scott was fairly sure he may not have heard the reply, so caught up in his own speech. 

“I think he’s good-looking. But I like girls, too. And that’s not it, anyway! I-I-”

“What? Is it drugs? Are you doing meth?”

Another person who thought he was on drugs! Scott knew that he had changed a little bit in some noticeable ways, but not in a way that would make people think he was on drugs, and certainly not meth. Scott sighed and decided to wait it out. 

“‘Cause I had a brother that was addicted to meth. You should have seen what it did to his teeth. They were all cracked and rotted. It was … It was disgusting.”

“Oh my god,” Scott replied in horror, distracted from his own problems for a moment. “What happened to him?”

“He got veneers,” coach said, as if it was the most logical conclusion to the story. Scott had no idea how his brain worked, and with every second he spent with coach, he wanted to know less. Realisation dawned on coach’s face. “Is that what this is about? Are you afraid of getting hurt, McCall?”

That was the exact opposite of the problem at hand.

Scott wasn’t scared of getting hurt. He’d been playing lacrosse since he was little, with severe asthma, bad enough to land him in the hospital multiple times before even the age of ten, he had been hurt more times than most of the other players on the team combined. And now he could heal even quicker than before, his body even stronger than before. Now, he was scared of hurting someone else, like he’d hurt Jackson, like he’d been hurt by people who didn’t care what their strength did to him. 

“No, I’m having some issues dealing with aggression.”

“Well, here’s the good news. That’s why you play lacrosse. Problem solved.”

Coach actually wasn’t wrong; a lot of the kids who had the normal anger issues, as in, they weren’t at risk of transforming into a werewolf when they lost control, were recommended to at least join lacrosse, even if they didn’t play on the team. Apparently it helped, quite a lot. But Scott’s problem was pretty different from those cases. 

“Coach, I can’t play the game tomorrow night,” he protested again, losing all hope that he was going to win the argument. 

“Listen, McCall,” coach began. “Part of playing first line is taking on the responsibility of being first line. Now, if you can’t shoulder that responsibility, then you’re … you’re back on the bench until you’re ready.”

“If I don’t play the game, you’re gonna take me off first line?” Scott asked in disbelief, heart crushed. 

“McCall, play the game.”

  
  


<>

  
  


“You know, I don’t think I ever realise how big the preserve is until we have to look for something,” Laura complained as they walked through the wooded area. Derek and Marin shared a look and continued on with her. She knew the area pretty well, the Hales had owned most of the land since the town was created, and it was a good place to run off to when she was a teenager, but it was a lot of land to cover when they were looking for something, especially when they didn’t really know what that something was. 

“Spent enough time in it when we were kids,” Derek pointed out, hands in his jacket. It had been dad’s; he wore it on days when the memories were a little too much. Derek was wearing it most days, now. “Grandpa used to hide the easter eggs up the trees until mum made him stop.”

“Yeah, ‘cause birds used to eat them and then die.”

“Can birds not eat chocolate?”

“I don’t know about chocolate but they definitely can’t eat the aluminium wrapping on the eggs,” Marin said, squeezing Laura’s hand. “Also, didn’t you break both your arms and a leg trying to get one of those eggs down?”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine that helped grandpa’s case much.”

Laura snorted.

It was good to see Derek a little more alive, something he hadn’t been since coming back to Beacon, and the preserve was always a good place for him. Thinking about it, once Derek was in a better headspace, Laura wondered if she should get him to talk to Scott about figuring out his control for games better. Laura had never struggled too much with lacrosse, just trying to hold back enough to keep their secret and not hurt anyone too seriously, but Derek had struggled a lot more, and knew better ways of coping. She only hoped that it wouldn’t influence Scott to make his anchor anger. It worked for Derek, but it couldn’t be healthy. 

“It’s cold,” she said after a few minutes of silence. Taking in the scent of the preserve, trying to pick up on anything from Peter, had filled her nose and throat with the chilly air a little too much.

“It’s winter, Laur,” Marin replied, moving closer to wrap an arm around her anyway. Derek rolled his eyes at them both, but Laura could tell it was in an affectionate way as opposed to annoyed. Marin had been in his life for as long as he could remember-her and Laura being friends before he was even born, and she had always been family. “At least we’re doing this at lunchtime, it would be worse in the morning.”

“Most of the apartment block’s parking lot was frosted over this morning,” Derek agreed.

“Aw, did you worry about damaging your car when you left?” Laura teased. Derek loved his car, it was a good car and grandma had taught him how to fix them up so it had extra special meaning for him, but it was so so stereotypical, Laura couldn’t not make a few jokes about it.

“Of course not,” he defended, looking insulted at the insinuation.

“You didn’t take it out, did you?” Marin asked knowingly.

“Of course not; the ground was too frosty.”

Laura laughed. They only had an hour to loop back round to the entrance so Marin could get back to the school for her final lesson that day, and then her and Derek would be doing the other half of the preserve, but taking a little bit of time to relax wouldn’t be too bad. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she took it out to check the message. Scott.

“You alright?” Marin asked, noticing the drop in her mood. 

“Coach isn’t letting Scott drop out of the game, so he says he’s going to figure out another way of coping with it. You know, I don’t remember Finstock being this competitive when we were in high school.”

“That’s because you were equally competitive.”


	25. Second Chance at First Line Part Five

They were back at the entrance to the preserve, having covered about half of the area, and Marin was getting ready to head back to the school. Derek had gone on ahead to check on something he had smelled, animal blood, and so Laura took advantage of the sudden privacy they had. 

“Love you,” she whispered into the side of Marin’s neck, pulling her wife into a close hug. She scentmarked her briefly, hands rested on her waist, and took in a deep breath.

“Love you too, Laur,” Marin replied. “You feeling okay?”

“Just a little overwhelmed. All better now.”

Marin laughed slightly but stayed still, leaning against Laura with most of her weight. It hadn’t been an easy time for her, Laura knew, they had the same worries about Scott, Peter and the hunters, and whilst Laura had been attacked by Peter, Marin had had to patch her up afterwards, which couldn’t have been pleasant. They stayed there for a few minutes before Marin eventually pulled away.

“I’ve gotta get back to the school,” she said regretfully.

“Yeah, I guess we’re a little too old to be playing hooky,” Laura grinned, kissing her forehead one last time before Marin walked over to the car. “Love you!”

“Love you too!”

“You’re my favourite!”

After watching the car disappear down the road, Laura followed Derek’s scent to a small clearing where half a deer lay. It was accompanied by the scent of a mountain lion, and not a single clue of Peter, so it was clearly a dead end. And a warning to maybe avoid the preserve at night, as if the people of Beacon needed any more of one. Derek was looking frustrated and Laura shared his sentiments.

Peter hadn’t yet returned to the hospital, his nurse apparently hadn’t gone back either, which was a completely different concern, and managed to organise it to look as though he’d been transferred to New York. His nurse had probably helped with that. Their old house, the burnt husk that it was, hadn’t been lived in since the fire, and the only scents there belonged to Derek and Laura, who visited it every few weeks, still unsure what to do with it after over a decade. 

It was a much quieter walk through the preserve with Marin gone. Before everything had gone down with the fire, and the hunters, and his eyes changing, Derek had never really shut up, much to Laura’s chagrin. Now, it was difficult to get a word out of him without really trying. Laura hadn’t imagined that she would miss her brother’s incessant chattering, but she hadn’t thought she would miss the way her dad would tease her, or how Cora would sneak up on her when she wasn’t looking. The fire had done a lot more than just physical damage.

Most of the preserve wasn’t actually suitable for Peter to have a hiding place, the old shed having been knocked down when they were still children, none of them knew where the nemeton was after Talia had took their memories, and Laura doubted Peter would be stupid enough to stay there. If he was smart enough to stay hidden, he wouldn’t do it in the cut down husk of a supernatural magnet. 

“This isn’t going to work, is it?” Derek asked, defeated, as they came back round to the entrance.

“Maybe, maybe not,” she reasoned. “We didn’t know until we tried, and even if it didn’t, you needed fresh air.”

“It’s not like there isn’t air inside,” Derek answered back, smirked, climbing into the driver’s seat of his car, Laura sitting next to him.

“Don’t go quoting Narnia movies at me, you know the books are better.”

  
  


<>

  
  


The talk with coach had gone badly, more than badly, it had gone terrible, and Scott was not feeling optimistic about it all. He’d texted Laura, telling her he’d come up with something, and had yet to get a reply, but that wasn’t unreasonable. Technically, he shouldn’t even be texting at school and definitely not after annoying coach, who was the worst for confiscating phones. 

At that very moment, his phone buzzed, displaying a message from his mum: Got the night off! Coming to see you play! So excited!!

Under any other circumstances, Scott would have been thrilled that his mum would be able to watch him play his dream, thrilled that she would have been able to get a night off to do something that they wanted to do, not work related. Instead, he now had the added fear of his mother watching him transform into a monster on the field. It didn’t help his stress levels.

“Hey,” Allison greeted, walking down the stairs to him. She glanced at the phone in his hand. “Busy?”

“No, no, it’s just my mum. She’s nothing,” Scott replied quickly before realising in horror that he had messed up his words. Allison’s face fell in concern. “I mean,  _ it’s _ nothing, sorry. I’m never busy for you.”

“I like the sound of that,” she smiled. “I have to run to French class, but I wanted you to know that I’m coming to see you play tomorrow.”

Scott’s heart fell. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to expect Allison to attend the game. She was becoming closer with Lydia and Jackson, both of whom attended every game, whether they were playing or not, but Allison saying she was going for him felt like a harsh reminder that Scott wanted to back out, and leave the team with two people missing from first line. Scott would be permanently missing from first line as well, if he backed out. His disappointment had even stopped being about playing first line, really. He’d go back to being a bench warmer with severe asthma if it meant he was never at risk of hurting someone, or being a monster.

“You are?”

“And we’re all going out afterwards. You, me, Lydia, Jackson. It’s gonna be great. Tell Stiles to come, too,” Allison told him happily. “I gotta go, talk to you later.”

Scott watched her walk off. Whilst spending more time with Allison, even if it meant spending more time with Jackson, was a happy prospect, and even though he was glad that Stiles was also being included in the mix, Scott felt his anxiety soar. He had to be even more careful during the game if he was going to hang out with people afterwards and Jackson was becoming even more suspicious. 

He texted his mum back, saying he was glad she had the night off, not  _ technically _ a lie, and that he had plans to go out with some friends afterwards. The more notice she had about that, the better. Then Scott texted Stiles. He knew his friend would drop plans in a heartbeat, even in the middle of them, to spend time with Lydia, but this gave him time to prepare and time to consider all of the other implications such as occurring after a game where Scott was at risk of losing control, and spending time with Jackson, who Scott had hurt.

Are you serious? WE’RE GOING OUT WITH LYDIA MARTIN? - Stiles

And Allison and Jackson, don’t forget that - Scott. He laughed quietly at the message. Stiles had more than just a tendency to hyperfocus and it was never more obvious than when Lydia was involved.

Yes, but THIS IS MY TIME TO SHINE - Stiles

She has a crush on Allison, buddy - Scott

She’s bisexual, Scott, I still have a chance to win her over. She’s not dating anyone yet. Let me have my dreams - Stiles

Scott pocketed his phone, sensing coach turning down the corridor, not with his new werewolf abilities but with too much experience of dealing with him. He made his way to maths class, that he, now rather awkwardly, shared with Lydia. His plan had been to just avoid eye contact, with the incredibly unlikely chance that she would actually seek him out, but of course they were the two called up to the board to finish equations for that lesson.

“Why is there a rumour going around that you’re not playing tomorrow?” Lydia asked harshly, breaking the silence between them. Scott swallowed nervously. 

“Because I might not be.”

“I think you might,” she replied haughtily. “Especially when you brutally injure a player by ramming into him.”

“He brutally injured himself ramming into me,” Scott defended. 

“Jackson’s going to play tomorrow,” Lydia continued as though he hadn’t spoken and Scott felt a wave of relief go through him, even as he felt annoyed at everything else going on in his life. “But he’s not going to be at his peak. I would much prefer him to be at peak performance.”

“Okay,” Scott said, not really understanding what she meant by that and not at all wanting to know.

“We are the winning lacrosse team, three years in a row, and my best friend is the winning captain. If the team is losing, then I’m best friends with the captain of the losing lacrosse team. I don’t associate myself with losers.”

“Losing one game isn’t going to kill anyone,” he answered back feeling his frustrations building. He had much bigger problems than a lacrosse game, but he couldn’t exactly vent them out to most people. “In fact, it might even save someone.”

“Fine, don’t play. We’ll probably win anyway. And coach will just replace you with someone else who actually wants to be first line.”

Lydia finished the final part of her equation and stalked back to her desk where Scott knew she had already finished the exercises. He turned his attention back to the writing in front of him, brain too tired and emotionally spent to process the numbers, letters and symbols. 

“Mr McCall, you are not even close to solving your problem,” the teacher told him, sounding disappointed. Scott wanted to throw himself through the wall. 

“Tell me about it.”


	26. Second Chance at First Line Part Six

Laura got home, tired and annoyed, and fell face first onto the sofa. Derek had dropped her home, teasing her a little about her strong opinions on children’s books, and gone back to his own apartment. The walk had done him some good, though it hadn’t been all beneficial, and going out with Marin, even with Derek there, was something she’d never complain about. She was tired, mentally and physically, and just wanted the day to be over. 

It wasn’t.

She had a few more emails to work through, a new case that needed reviewing to decide who was going to work it, and Scott needed her help with the game tomorrow. She could still remember when she first played, her freshman year. Being a werewolf, and playing all through middle school and every school break, meant that she hadn’t struggled to make the team, though that had given her a different set of insecurities. Her biggest fears were tackling someone so hard that they were injured and her family embarrassing her. Whilst the first one never happened, the second happened at almost every game. 

Checking the time, and still having about half an hour before Marin would be finished with her classes, Laura sat up slowly and went to grab a few of the photo albums that had survived the fire, previously kept in the family vault. Inside the one with her name written on in her mother’s painfully familiar writing, were pictures from before and after every game she had ever played, a few dozen pictures from every birthday, and any other circumstances when someone had a camera near her. Marin was in most of them with her.

Laura closed the book, stopping to ponder over the picture from her senior year, when they’d just won the state championship, her arm around Marin’s shoulders, both of them grinning widely. It had been a difficult game to win, but Laura had managed to score the final winning point, and had been given the ‘player of the game’ award, a sharing pack of haribos, if she remembered correctly, and won both the game and the championship. At the very second the final whistle blew, declaring Beacon Hills the winner, Laura spun on her heel and sprinted right towards Marin, picking her up and not letting go until the rest of the team literally dragged her away.

The next book was Derek’s, filled with pictures of him playing basketball, and not much else. They’d stopped filling the books after the fire. It had felt wrong. Laura closed that book a little too hard, hearing the thudding noise as she tossed it to the side, and turned to the next ones. Alex’s was practically empty in comparison to hers. He was the youngest of the house, only five when he died, and with each child there were fewer and fewer pictures. It still hurt too much to look at it, though Derek managed it sometimes.

It was Cora’s book she opened next.

It felt strange looking through her class pictures, able to actually recognise some of the kids. It was even stranger to realise that Marin was a teacher to a large number of them. Cora’s kindergarten class picture made Laura pause. Standing next to her, with a familiar sweet smile, was Scott, Stiles on his other side. The fact that the three of them knew each other, might have even been friends, was jarring. It was easy to separate her life as before the fire and after it, anyone or anything associated with Cora falling in the former, but in her hands was a stark reminder that life never work that way.

Her phone buzzed, Marin’s picture lighting up the screen. Laura hadn’t realised she’d been looking through the books for so long. She picked it up, took a deep breath, and answered.

“Hey, you all done for the day?”

“I’ve got the senior AP class last period,” Marin replied. “I’ll be heading home after that. Are you alright? I’m assuming you didn’t find anything.”

“No, no, I would have texted you we I did,” Laura sighed. “I’m alright. Just tired. Spending all day looking for your murderous uncle tends to take it out of you. Finstock’s not been causing any problems, has he? I know he won’t let Scott drop out of the game, could you not talk to him?”

“I don’t trust him enough to be discreet, or kind, enough,” Marin grumbled. “He means well, but he doesn’t seem to understand that you have to be subtle about these kinds of things. I’m worried that telling him will just get Scott singled out.”

“Fair enough.”

“If you’re tired, we can order from the new Indian restaurant when I’m back. It should be good.”

“That sounds great, yeah. I’m assuming that the AP class won’t be too difficult,” Laura asked.

“No, I just give them some exercises and they normally okay on their own for an hour. It’s only the start of the semester, after all. I’ve gotta go soon, but are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, just looking through some of the old photo albums.”

“Well you only do that when you’re sad, so now I’m a little worried.”

“It’s okay, just a little nostalgic. I think Scott and Stiles knew Cora when they were little, there’s a class picture and they’re all standing together. Even Natalie Martin’s girl is with them.”

“It’s a small town. We knew each other from kindergarten. Do you think they’ll remember her at all?”

“Maybe. I’ll ask when things aren’t so busy. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Laura was left on her own again, looking down at the picture. With each passing year, the memories grew a little fuzzier. She couldn’t remember the exact tone of her dad’s voice, the way her grandmother would talk to her when they were alone, about werewolf things; the celebrities she thought were wolves, famous myths about True Alphas, all ridiculous things. Laura couldn’t even fathom as to what advice her mum would give her about what to do. 

Her mum, who achieved the full shift with almost no guidance, a deep black wolf, who everyone went to when there was a problem, who Laura missed more than anything, would have known what to do.

She sighed turned the page of the book. It was Cora’s third birthday, dressed in a bright blue t-shirt and dark leggings that were immediately covered in paint the second the activities started, and Laura was holding her in her arms, both of them grinning at the camera. Their grandmother had taken the picture, cooing over how adorable she found the two of them to be. The house had been filled with excited children, running about covered in paint and glitter and glue. Happy squeals echoed all over the house, loud enough that they had hurt Laura’s ears and she’d had to stay outside.

Peter was in a lot of the pictures as well, staying in the back with some of her cousins. 

They’d adored Uncle Peter when they were little; he was always going against the other adults to let them get away with minor things. Smuggling them sweets, letting them stay up a little later, taking them out to the park whenever packs came over to discuss boring things. Laura didn’t imagine she would ever find herself wishing she knew what packs discussed. Even after most of them had been killed, by their alphas no less, she still knew less about being an alpha than they did. Well, maybe not them. Laura would never murder a pack member for power; she’d just let the hunters take care of Peter if it meant getting rid of him. She had Satomi, who was always kind with her advice, but that was through her previous friendship with Talia being passed down. 

At the moment, talking to Satomi would put her at risk with the hunters, and might even set Peter’s attention on her pack, most of them omegas-turned-betas who needed help. Laura didn’t doubt some of them had attacked people, turned humans, and, whilst it was entirely because they were never taught control, a family like the Argents could twist that into a reason to attack.

They would just have to keep to themselves for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's wondering why there's been so many updates and fics in just a week, I had a three hour screening of the world's most boring film on Monday and I've just been editing them ever since  
Glad you've liked it


	27. Second Chance at First Line Part Seven

“Hey, come here.”

Scott closed his locker door, only just managing to put the padlock back on, as Stiles rushed over, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him across the hallway. They were right next to the stairs where the sheriff, a deputy and the principal were talking. 

“Come here. Tell me what they’re saying.”

“Can you hear them?” Stiles prompted, when Scott didn’t give an immediate answer. Scott shushed him, trying to listen harder. The sheriff was talking.

“We want everyone under the age of 18 to be in their home by 9.30 PM. We’d like to institute the curfew effective immediately.”

“There’s a curfew being put in place,” Scott reiterated.

“Unbelievable. My dad’s out looking for a rabid animal whilst the jerkoff who bit you is just hanging out, doing whatever he wants,” Stiles complained, pulling away. Scott understood the sentiment. He wasn’t exactly sure how Peter would be prosecuted, Laura had been healed by the time Scott met her, and Peter had been comatose for almost a decade.

“You can’t exactly tell your dad the truth about this,” he pointed out.

“I can do something,” Stiles replied, rolling on his feet like he did when he was trying to think of an idea. 

“Like what?” 

“We can try and find Peter.”

Scott almost laughed at how ridiculous it was, but the idea of going back into the preserve, to look for the thing that attacked both him and Laura, having seen the monstrous form Peter took, he was too scared to. 

“Are you kidding? How are we supposed to do that? Laura and the other adults couldn’t do it, why would we stand a chance?”

“Because he knows them - he knows their scent and stuff, he’ll recognise them more. You and me, he won’t recognise. I mean, you’ve seen him twice, I’ve never seen him. And we can use my dad’s research!”

Stiles walked off, dead set on his idea, leaving Scott on his own in the hallway. A different conversation caught his attention. The sheriff had left with his deputy, the principal gone somewhere else, and so there was no one else for Scott to listen to, but Lydia introducing Allison to one of the other players. Ryan. A junior who had always been a little softer when he tackled Scott than the others were. He had an asthmatic younger sister, Scott knew, and probably understood his weak lungs wouldn’t appreciate being rammed into. 

“This is Allison.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.”

“She’s the new girl. She just moved here,” Lydia explained, as Scott was walking over. She wasn’t looking at him, but Scott could feel like she knew he was there. 

“It was nice meeting you. See you soon.”

“I’ll be at the game.”

Lydia and Ryan walked off, the former practically dragging the latter away for a reason Scott couldn’t comprehend. Allison turned to him, smiling in greeting. He tried to stay calm. The sheriff was installing a curfew, Stiles was going to go looking for Peter at some point, Scott wasn’t sure when but he doubted his friend would be stupid enough to go by himself, and Scott was becoming very good friends with someone from a family of people who wanted to kill him. And Peter also wanted to kill him or control him. Neither of which were appealing prospects. 

“So, Lydia’s introducing you to everyone?” he asked conversationally. 

“She’s being so unbelievably nice to me,” Allison replied, looking happy at the idea of it. 

“I wonder why,” Scott teased. Lydia rarely waited before asking someone out, if she liked someone, they knew it and they normally dated her for a while. She must really like Allison to be waiting. 

“Maybe she gets how much being the new girl can suck,” she reasoned. Scott glanced down briefly, and caught sight of a familiar jacket. It was the one she had been wearing the night of the party, the jacket Derek had used to draw him into the woods, after he’d driven Allison home. He had a flood of memories from that night, the feeling of the full moon tugging at his skin, the urges to hurt anyone and everyone, being chased by people with guns and crossbows. It did not hold happy memories for him.

“Where did you get that?” he asked in alarm. 

“My jacket? It was in my locker. I think Lydia brought it back from the party. She has my combination,” Allison explained. Scott didn’t think Derek was stupid enough to go back to the Argents’ house to give back the jacket, so putting it in Allison’s locker was the safer of the options, but given they had been attacked just a week ago by the hunters, it was maybe a little too early to be going near them again. Laura would want to know, at the very least. 

“Did she say she brought it back? Or did somebody give her the jacket?” Scott asked, panic flaring up.

“Like who?”

“Like Derek.”

Scott realised he probably shouldn’t have mentioned Derek, both for the secrecy thing, and also because Allison probably wasn’t over being left behind at the party. At least she held Derek in a more positive light because of it. Allison looked surprised at the mention of his name, not immediately connecting together who that was. 

“Your friend?” she asked.

“He’s not my friend,” Scott blurted out. “Sorry, not like that. He knows my boss, we know each other through the clinic. Did you talk to him much when he drove you home?”

“Not much, no.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, pretty sure,” she replied, looking uncomfortable. “I gotta get to class.”

“Allison,” Scott called as she started to walk away. He should at least apologise for asking so many strange, to her, questions. 

“No, I really have to go.”

He watched her walk away. After practically demanding answers from her, following her would be bordering on stalker behaviour. Scott had a study period, normally spent in the library waiting for Stiles to finish in his physics class, but his heart beat was rising and he didn’t trust himself to stay calm. The bathrooms were nearby and he made a beeline towards them, everyone else already on their slow way to class. It was a Friday, no one wanted to be at school, let alone in a classroom.

It was thankfully empty inside, though his heightened senses were causing him to suffer in every public bathroom, and Scott collapsed into the stall. His hands clenched into fists, hiding from the world and himself even the slightest hint of his claws. He tried the breathing techniques Laura had been teaching him before, breath shaking in his chest. 

In for four. Hold for four. Out for four.

He’d tried to find an anchor. Laura had said that it was whatever kept him human, that she thought of her wife, that it was whatever was important to him. Scott wasn’t sure what kept him human. Up until a short while ago, he had never really considered his humanity, it was just a given that he was human. Now Scott feared losing it forever. 

In for four. Hold for four. Out for four.

His mum appeared in his mind, a memory of the stories she taught him when he was little and too weak to leave his bed, and then Stiles, the two of them pulling the prank that bonded them for life, and his breathing came easier. That part of his life hadn’t changed. He would always have his mum, he would always have the stories that were his childhood, he would always have Stiles. Scott just had to make sure they would always have him.

In for four. Hold for four. Out for four. 

The ache in his mouth subsided, his teeth flat to his tongue, and he felt safe enough to unclench his fists. There was barely a drop of blood in his palms, only the faintest outline of blunt nails from where he’d been squeezing a little too hard. Scott felt ridiculously proud. He’d done it. He’d freaked out, he’d gotten himself somewhere safe, and he’d barely shifted. The tight ball of stress in his stomach that had formed when he was bit loosened enough to let him relax. 

He was going to be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in the show Scott's anchor is Allison, but that's a first love type thing, which is different in this story. She'll still be very important to him, obviously, but in a different way


	28. Second Chance at First Line Part Eight

The school day was finally over, Stiles had sent him a text saying he was heading straight home to do research, a terrifying prospect even without the looming threat of the supernatural they were dealing with, and Scott knew he needed to talk to Laura. His bike was still attached to the rack, undamaged with no one having stuck anything to it, he still had nightmares about the time his seat had been covered in glue, and he mostly knew the way to Laura’s house. Scott wasn’t entirely sure that explaining to Laura about how her brother snuck into the high school to drop off the jacket of a hunter’s daughter was something you did over text and since they already had a pre-arranged training session, it was good timing. He should probably also warn her about Stiles. 

It was easy to get out of the school and there weren’t too many hills on the way to Laura’s house, so it was quite a pleasant ride through town. 

He rang the doorbell slightly nervously, having only been over once before, and Laura answered with a smile. She looked tired, and Scott got a little worried. If she was already tired with the things she was currently dealing with, she might not be thrilled with him piling on more problems. It was a little too late to back down now, however.

“You alright?” Laura asked, walking him through to the living room. 

“Yeah. I, um, I think I figured out my anchor thing, kind of.”

“That’s great!” Laura exclaimed, lighting up. “Oh, that’s so good, Scott. You should be really proud of yourself, really.”

Scott couldn’t help but grin, a significant weight lifting off his shoulders at the compliment and Laura’s genuine enthusiasm for him, and he forgot, mostly, about his stress for the game tomorrow. They settled on the sofa, Laura bringing two large glasses of orange squash for them both, and Scott noticed out of the corner of his eye, a collection of photo albums, one of them opened on a familiar class photo. He and Stiles both had the same photo hung up by proud parents somewhere in their houses.

“That was kindergarten,” he said quickly, glad he recognised it. “We had to be bribed with cookies so we’d all stay still long enough for the picture.”

For a moment, Laura looked confused and Scott realised he should have given a little bit of context for his statement, but then he could practically see Laura making the connection, glancing over to the books.

“Yeah, I was feeling a little nostalgic earlier. I hadn’t realised you and Stiles would have been in the same class as Cora. I used to pick her up on Tuesdays, I’d probably have seen you at some point,” she said. There was a small, sad silence, before Laura focused again. “Alright, I know coach isn’t letting you drop out of the game tomorrow, and that’s pretty awful, so we’re gonna make sure you can keep your position on first line. Your practice went well enough.”

“I gave Jackson a separated shoulder,” Scott pointed out.

“Humans give each other separated shoulders all the time,” Laura countered. “In lacrosse, I mean. And that was an accident, so you shouldn’t feel too guilty about it. What’s your biggest concern about the game? I don’t mean just losing control, I mean whatever you’re most scared of if you lose control.”

“That my mum will think I’m a monster,” he said quietly, head lowered in shame.

“Well that’s pretty scary,” she agreed. “But, you’re not a monster, you’re still you, you’re still her son, who she loves, and who doesn’t want to hurt anyone. When she does find out, only when you’re ready, it might take her time to process it, but you’re still her son. Besides, she went to high school with werewolves and there weren’t any problems.”

“I keep forgetting how small the town is,” Scott smiled. 

“Yeah, wait til you’re all grown up and bumping into your old teachers at the grocery store. It’s unpleasant. Hell, most of my old teachers are still teaching, and Marin works at the school.”

Scott smiled at her, glad that there was still some hope that his mum wouldn’t be completely horrified at him if she found out the truth. When. He wouldn’t be able to cope with keeping this big of a secret from her for too long. 

“Now, lacrosse is a violent game, obviously, and since there’s an adrenaline rush and sheer momentum when you’re tackling someone, there’s a bit of leeway in how much strength you can use on the field. The main thing you need to worry about is keeping your eyes the same, since that’s the most likely part of you that people will notice has shifted. We’ll practice that for a while.”

Scott watched as her eyes took on the now familiar red glow. It seemed so easy when she did it. He understood, on a basic level, that they defined her as the alpha of the pack, and being the alpha linked her to the rest and made her stronger. Her mum used to be the alpha, and it had passed on to Laura after the fire. Scott wondered if it made her feel guilty when she used her strength, knowing it once belonged to her mother. 

He tried to do the same, attempting to remember what it felt like when his eyes became a shining gold instead of their natural brown, but it was difficult to isolate the sensation from what it felt like to lose control. They practiced a little bit longer until Laura decided they needed a break, going to refill their squash and grabbing some cookies.

“Um, at school today,” Scott began awkwardly, “I was talking to Allison, and she had her jacket again, it had been left in her locker. She assumed it was Lydia who did it, but Derek had it the night the hunters attacked us.”

“No wonder he was so guilty earlier,” Laura sighed, rubbing her temples. “Thanks for telling me. It shouldn’t be too bad, especially if she thinks her friend did it, but I should probably talk to him about not going near the school. The look on your face makes me think there’s more.”

“Stiles wants to go back into the preserve to try and find your uncle. He listens in on the calls from his dad,” Scott explained, pausing as he realised he let slip something he probably shouldn’t.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that part,” she promised.

“And they’re doing a curfew for anyone under eighteen, which they only really do for wild animals, and because Stiles obviously knows it not a wild animal, he wants to prove it. He says because Peter barely knows us, he won’t be able to recognise us, but obviously that just means he’s more likely to attack, right?”

“Peter isn’t an idiot, by any stretch of the imagination, and if he keeps staging animal attacks, it will draw hunters closer to us, and law enforcement away from us. But, Stiles smells pretty strongly of the sheriff, and the police station, and everything to do with that, and attacking the sheriff’s son in the middle of the preserve will get the police combing every inch of the preserve looking for whatever did it. I don’t think Peter will kill him, but he will be in a lot of danger.”

“Why … why is he like this? You and Derek are his only family left. I get that you’re powerful as an alpha, but is it really worth it?”

“No, it’s really not,” Laura sighed. “The Argents, they were the ones who set the fire. The only specifics we know was that Kate Argent, Allison’s … aunt, I think, was in charge. Derek was out, I was away at uni, but everyone else, they were trapped in the house. Peter had two kids, Henry was nearly seven, Lucas was three; he watched them burn and die with the rest of our family, and was trapped, slowly healing, in a coma for a decade. He spent a decade only thinking about getting revenge, because that was just what he was like, and now he’s better, he’s doing whatever he can to get it. After he failed killing me, making a new beta, that I would need to train, would distract me enough to give him leeway, which was why he bit you.”

“I don’t want to be a distraction, not if he’s going to hurt people,” Scott said quickly.

“You’re not a distraction, Scott, you’re a kid who got attacked because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. None of this is your fault, so I need you to not feel guilty about this. All I need you to do, is keep trying to control your shift, maybe try and stop your friend looking for murderers in the middle of the night, and do your best in the game tomorrow, alright?”

“Alright,” he said. His phone buzzed, displaying Stiles’ name. It buzzed several more times.

“I don’t think that’s good.”

Scott checked the message, heart sinking. “No, it’s really not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be in a slightly different style


	29. Second Chance at First Line Part Eight

The dirt covered floor of the Beacon Hills preserve had been searched extensively in the area that the attack was believed to have happened. Most of the blood of the presumed victim had been washed away by the night’s rain, too contaminated by the water and the mud to be truly tested. However, almost two weeks after the supposed attack, hidden away on a tree, protected from the worst of the rain by its foliage, a splatter of blood had been found by one of the deputies. 

It wasn’t a perfect sample, they wouldn’t be able to get an exact answer, just if someone matched the partial profile, but something else had caught the deputy’s eye. After she had put away the evidence, she had found the slightest indent of a footprint, the pattern, clear enough in the picture, and half of an ID. Half of an ID with a slightly discoloured picture displaying a very familiar face, one that had been sighted all around town by the concerned elderly.

“Sheriff,” the deputy said, as the phone was answered. “I’ve found something about the attack in the preserve. We might be able to make an arrest.”

  
  


<>

  
  


“We’ve got his ID, slashed in half, in the area that the attack was presumed to have happened,” she explained. “If we get lucky with the blood sample, we might have a partial profile to test against him as well.”

“Not bad,” he said, turning over the ID. “It’s easier to arrest a person than an animal. Maybe we’ll get an answer for the deer as well. You did good, deputy, might take over me one day.”

“I can only hope,” she joked, clearly proud.

“Get this filed properly and I’ll go around to make the arrest. Try to keep it quiet, we don’t want anyone learning the wrong thing and getting the town all worked up over nothing. He’s got a sister, she’s a lawyer, make sure we have her number for when he’s brought in.”

  
  


<>

  
  


The sheriff had known the man’s parents, back from high school, and it made it hard for him to consider him a man. He wasn’t old enough for his friends to have adult children, he hoped. It was difficult to understand what had happened that night in the woods, though his gut instinct told him something truly bad had happened, but it wasn’t difficult to understand that the man could have snapped.

Losing your entire family in a house fire, whilst you were at school, could destroy someone’s sanity. The sheriff had sympathy for that.

But when your ID is found near where a possible attack has happened, with a splatter of blood and a decently-sized footprint, you become a suspect, no matter who you were. Which was why he was going to the abandoned warehouse that had become his strange, strange home. The sheriff wasn’t entirely sure grief was a good enough reason for why anyone would want to live somewhere like that, but whatever worked. 

He answered the door with a confused expression, hidden under annoyed eyebrows, and for a brief moment, the sheriff’s gut instinct told him that the man had no idea why he was there. He pushed through it. Just because the man didn’t know that he had dropped his ID, didn’t mean he didn’t know anything about the crime scene.

“You’re under arrest on suspicion of murder,” the sheriff said, reciting the Miranda rights he had memorised years ago. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”

“No.”

The drive back to the station was silent, barring the sheriff’s call explaining he was coming back with the suspect arrested. He could feel eyes burning into the back of his head, making his hair stand up on end, and really hoped that he wasn’t wrong. He was so concerned, he’d completely forgotten that his teenage son listened in on his calls. 

  
  


<>

  
  


“Shit,” Stiles muttered, abandoning his research as he heard his dad’s call. He went to grab his phone, sending multiple ‘911’ texts to Scott before explaining what he had heard. “Come on, dad, you’re smarter than that.”


	30. Second Chance at First Line Part Ten

“Derek’s been arrested?” Laura exclaimed in surprise, on the phone with one of the deputies. Her phone had rung before Scott had been able to explain what Stiles had told him and that was not the reason she had been expecting. “For murder? Yes, yes, I’ll come down. Thank you for telling me.”

“Is it something they have evidence for?” Scott asked. “I mean, there’s no body, they can’t prove there’s been a murder.”

“No, it shouldn’t be too difficult to prove he’s innocent. Peter set something up at the hospital to make it seem like he was transferred that night, which more or less gives us an alibi, and we can call Alan to back it up,” Laura explained, looking tired again. “I’m sorry, but we’re going to need to cut this short. You’re going to be okay tomorrow, alright? You’ve figured out your anchor, practically by yourself, not even two weeks after being bitten. It’ll be okay.”

“Thanks,” Scott replied. He picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “Good luck with Derek.”

“Thanks, maybe go to visit your friend. Even if he doesn’t hear about Derek right away, it should help to keep you calm.”

They left the house, Scott hearing her calling Morrell, explaining what had happened, and he cycled straight to Stiles’ house, texting him that he was on his way. His phone buzzed in his pocket, signalling a reply had been received, but he didn’t bother slowing down to read it. The sheriff wasn’t home, Scott obviously knew that since he had been the one to arrest Derek, but Stiles was very stressed upstairs. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” he gasped, bursting into the bedroom. “I think I broke a few laws to get here this quickly.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Stiles replied. “Derek’s been arrested. Dad’s arrested someone who was being attacked by Peter, not Peter.”

“Your dad doesn’t know,” he pointed out. “He’s just trying to find answers. He just doesn’t have all of the information.”

“Derek’s not going to hurt him, right?”

Scott didn’t need supernatural abilities to hear the fear in his friend’s voice. “No, no, Laura is going down there. She’s a lawyer, she’ll do it the legal way. Derek’s literally done nothing. Nothing that’s illegal, anyway.”

It wasn’t quite enough for Stiles to completely relax, but it helped. “Do you wanna play video games? I got a new one we haven’t started yet. I read that it can help people with anger issues. Meant it for you, but right now it might help me too.”

“Sounds good.”

They go downstairs, sitting on the sofa directly in front of the tv, and set up a suitably violent looking video game on Stiles’ system. With a bowl of crisps in front of them, it was easy to sink into the familiarity of the situation. Scott could pretend that it was just like a few weeks before, when he didn’t know about the supernatural world, when he wasn’t a part of the supernatural world, and they were just having a normal Friday night, their parents out and giving them the entire night to dick around.

  
  


<>

  
  


Laura got back into her car, pulling out her phone to call Marin.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be in a session with Scott?”

“Yeah, we had to cut it short. Derek’s been arrested.”

“What? What do they say he’s done?”

“Murder.”

“Who? Wait, do they think the thing in the preserve was a murder? That Derek did?”

“They have enough evidence to put him down as a suspect,” Laura sighed, pulling out of the driveway. “I might be home a little late.”

“Yeah, sounds like it,” Marin replied. “I’m assuming you’ll need me or Alan as alibis.”

“Well, Peter’s managed to give us alibis, given he made it so that he was being transferred that night, but it will probably help. Plus, it isn’t exactly too damning to have his ID in the preserve, considering we own it. I’m not actually too sure the deputy should have been there in the first place, but I’ll save that for if things start going downhill.”

“Alright, call me when you’re done. Did you get anything done with Scott before this happened?”

“Not really. Oh! He’s figured out his anchor now! He managed it earlier! How awesome is that?”

“It’s great, Laur, it’s really great. Do you know what it is?”

“No, I didn’t get the chance to ask. I’m not sure if he wants to tell; it can be pretty personal, after all. You’re mine, and I’ll tell anyone who asks, but a teenager’s probably a little more self-conscious about whatever it is. Especially with someone he still doesn’t know too well. I’m nearing the station, I’ll call you soon. Love you.”

“Love you too, Laur. Good luck.”

She hung up regretfully, pausing just a second to hear Marin for a little longer, and arrived at the station. Laura walked inside, following the instructions from the person on reception. There was a general air of anxiety, which was to be expected since many of the people in the station thought they had just arrested a possible murderer who had been walking around the town for two weeks. They also had to deal with an angry Derek and that put people on edge as well.

“Hello, sheriff,” Laura greeted, keeping her tone even. He had no idea what was actually going on after all. “I’ll obviously need time to talk to my brother.”

“Of course. He’s not said a word to us.”

“Doesn’t talk to a lot of people, don’t take it personally,” she joked, before going into the interrogation room. Derek looked up at her, briefly breaking his scowl, and then went back to glaring at the glass opposite him. There was a heartbeat just behind the glance that slowly disappeared as the door shut again. They weren’t being listened to. “Alright, what does he say he has?”

“A possible DNA profile, and half my ID was found at the possible crime scene. On our property, which means they were the ones breaking the law.”

“I know, buddy, but let’s not press that one just yet. They think there’s been a murder. Have they confirmed the DNA profile?”

“Just did. I’m a partial match. What are we telling them?”

“An animal scratched your leg a few days ago whilst you were on the preserve. You didn’t think to report it because it was on the preserve and you didn’t expect to stay in town as long, but Peter got transferred so we wanted to talk more.”

“Fine, are you cutting my leg, or am I?”

“I’ll do it.”

They went through the slight awkwardness of cutting a gash in Derek’s leg, cleaning up the blood with a couple of wipes Laura kept in her bag, having struggled with her control recently. He let it heal to having just scabbed over and then sat uncomfortably in his chair. Laura took the pain from him, waiting for the sheriff to come back in.

“So, the night of the crime. Do you have an alibi?” he asked, getting the first question out of the way. Laura nodded.

“Our uncle was transferred that night, you can check the hospital records, and then we went to visit my brother-in-law at his clinic, since he was closing up late, with my wife. Do you need their numbers to check that?”

“What time did you leave the hospital?”

“I’m not sure. We got to the clinic at about ten, so it must have been at around nine forty-five.”

They had gotten to the clinic at about half ten, but Alan’s last patient had left at eight and he knew to lie for them, and since the attack had happened after ten, they were safe. The sheriff had clearly made that connection too.

“There was blood near the scene of the crime, it had missed most of the rain, and it is a partial match with your brother,” he continued. Laura didn’t blame him. Something had happened, even an idiot could tell that, and it could at the very least give him a clue. “Any idea how that happened?”

“I was walking around a few days ago, and something scratched me, looked kinda like a small mountain lion. We get them sometimes, when they can’t catch prey, and I didn’t plan on staying in town long, so I didn’t see the need to report it. No one should be in the preserve, since it’s private property,” Derek explained, with a pointed look at the sheriff who had the grace to look ashamed. “Would you like to see the cut?”

“To rule you completely out, I need proof,” he admitted. Derek pulled his trousers down again and showed the partially healed cut. There were a few droplets of blood on his trousers, mostly dried, but they matched the wound. “You sure you don’t need to go to the hospital, though?”

“No, I asked Alan to check it when it happened, just to make sure it wasn’t rabies, and it’s fine.”

“Alright, I’m sorry for wasting your time,” he said. “You’re free to go. And I’m sorry about your uncle. I never spoke to him, but anyone my age remembers his Hell Night pranks.”

“Thanks, sheriff.”

Laura’s palms were bloodied when they got back to the car. Derek didn’t mention it, didn’t speak, the entire drive. It was one thing knowing that their uncle’s reputation still stood, since no one could know the truth, but it was another thing hearing the sheriff praise him, whilst simultaneously investigating his crimes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a little dialogue-heavy, but some of the later chapters have very little dialogue, so it balances out a little better once I've uploaded those


	31. Second Chance at First Line Part Eleven

“How are you feeling?” Laura asked, pulling up to the abandoned warehouse Derek had decided would be his home. It probably wouldn’t concern her as much if he had a job or any known hobbies, something to distract from the feeling of loneliness it gave off. 

“Fine, my leg healed the second we were out,” was the gruff reply. He didn’t get out of the car.

“Whilst I’m glad, that’s not what I meant. There’s a lot going on Der, a lot of bad memories coming back, and you are getting all caught up in yourself again,” she said. “I know it’s not easy right now, but I need you to talk to me, alright? I don’t want you getting as bad as last time. If you need to, we have a spare room always saved for you.”

“I know, Laur,” Derek sighed, but there was a small smile. “I don’t know how you can stay in this town, after what happened.”

“It’s home. It’s where we grew up, where I met Marin, where I’ve spent most of my life. We have so much family history here, it feels wrong to leave. But I get why you don’t want to stay, and I won’t make you, ever.”

“Thanks. I’m guessing you need to get home soon,” Derek said, smiling properly now. Laura grinned.

“Yeah, Marin’s promised takeout from the new Indian place. You’re invited, obviously.”

“No, I think I’ll leave you two be. Think of it as an apology for interrupting you the other day.”

Laura waited until she could hear Derek upstairs before driving away, dialling Marin’s number as she did so. The call was answered after the third ring, which usually meant that she had been grading papers in the kitchen, meaning her phone was somewhere underneath a mountain of papers.

“Hey, you on your way back?” Marin asked.

“Yeah, all sorted. If you’re still interested, I could pick up food on the way back.”

“That sounds amazing. I swear, these kids have forgotten every word of French I’ve ever taught them,” she said, sounding tired. “Is Derek coming over too?”

“No, says it’s his apology for interrupting us the other night.”

“Looked scarred from it.”

“Yeah, well, he should learn to knock. I’ll pick up the food and I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too. You’re my favourite.”

Laura could hear her wife’s laugh as she cut off the call, smiling to herself the entire drive back, even at the restaurant. It earned her a few strange looks but she didn’t particularly care. The day had been long, difficult and frustrating; she was allowed to let herself be overly cheerful if she felt like it. She’d texted Scott that Derek was okay and wished him luck for the game tomorrow, but hadn’t gotten a reply. With any luck, he would be too caught up hanging out with his friend, doing normal teenager things, to notice the text.

“That smells so good,” Marin greeted, taking one of the bags from Laura’s hand, kissing her quickly. “Did you find it okay?”

“Yeah, they’ve got this big sign right at the corner, must be new ‘cause I didn’t see it yesterday.”

They settled at the table, papers and pens pushed to the corner for now, sat close together. It was getting late, the sun was only just still up when the school day was over, and a lot had happened since then. Laura didn’t need to look at the sky to know that the moon was nowhere near full, she could feel it under her skin, as second nature, but it was still reassuring to look out and see a distinct crescent shape. 

“You okay in there?” Marin asked when Laura had fallen silent for a few minutes. She startled slightly, shaking her head.

“Yeah, yeah, just a bit tired, babe. I think I’m all done,” she replied, pushing her, albeit empty, plate away. Marin stiffened slightly. “What?”

“There’s blood on your hands,” she pointed out, reaching out for them. “Did something happen?”

“I struggled a bit when talking to the sheriff. He brought up Peter and obviously he doesn’t know that Peter’s been going around causing problems, so he was all nice about it because he thinks Peter’s in a coma and it would be weird if he was harsh, and my claws slipped out. I thought I’d wiped all of it off.”

“Come here,” Marin said, leading them both over to the sink. The cold water is a bit of a surprise, which is what tells Laura she really is tired. “You ready to head to bed after this?”

“Wouldn’t mind joining you in the shower, but yeah, bed sounds good.”

She’s too tired to do anything but hold onto Marin, face buried in her neck with a small smile, and offer small comments as she’s told about her day. It’s enough, any time with Marin is enough, and it takes barely a few minutes after her head hits the pillow to fall asleep, clinging like a monkey to her wife, and she knows Marin is only a short while behind her.

  
  


<>

  
  


There were probably a good handful of research papers about video games and their positive benefits, and Scott understood why. There was probably a large part of it down to him enjoying spending time with Stiles, an empty pizza box to the side after they devoured every speck of it, but taking out any frustration he had on fictional zombies was a pretty great stress relief. His new reflexes were a nice added bonus when playing. 

“You wanna finish the next level, or do you need to head back home?” Stiles asked as the scores for the last level flashed on the screen, Scott, for the first time, beating Stiles on several categories. He checked the time.

“I should probably head back home. Mum doesn’t like it when I cycle back in the dark, if she sees me doing it she might lose it.”

“Cool, see you tomorrow. Game’ll go great.”

“Here’s hoping.”

The night air was especially cold on the way home. A phantom pain ached in his lungs, reminding him of how it had felt to do the trip with his asthma, every icy breath risking an attack. It was probably why his mum didn’t like him cycling at night. Scott pushed past it. With his increased strength and decreased risks, it was only a ten minute ride to get home, putting his bike away before going in through the back.

Seeing his mum sat at the table nearly gave him a heart attack. 

“Oh, god! Why didn’t you come in through the front?” she demanded in shock, jumping up from her chair. He wasn’t the only one who had nearly had a heart attack. 

“Sorry, I was putting my bike away and didn’t want to walk all the way around. Why are you back early?”

“It’s eleven, my shift finished at half ten. Yesterday it finished at midnight, you probably got them confused,” Melissa explained. “You do remember there’s a curfew in place, right?”

“I was at Stiles’. The sheriff’s house is a pretty safe place to be.”

“Yes, but cycling back in the middle of the night isn’t,” she countered. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, mum, I promise. I had a good day at school, then me and Stiles played his new video game. Stress relief - for tomorrow.”

“You’re not too worried about it, are you? I know that first line is a big deal to you, and you’ve worked so hard for it, but I don’t want you to take it too far. You can get really hurt in lacrosse, mijo.”

“I know mum. I’ll be careful. I’ve got breathing stuff to keep me calm and I figured out an anchor,” Scott said before freezing slightly. Melissa noticed.

“Anchor?”

“Yeah, something to keep me centred and calm - that kind of stuff.”

“Is it something your coach recommended?”

Scott nearly laughed out loud at that.

“You haven’t met coach, have you?”

“No, I haven’t. Anyway, if you’ve got it all figured out, I won’t pry. It’s bed time anyway. I won’t have you falling asleep on the field tomorrow.”

Scott laid in bed, listening to his mum get ready. She hummed as she went through her normal steps, the sounds becoming slightly garbled as she brushed her teeth. It was a song he remembered from when he was little; it wasn’t quite a lullaby but it had functioned as one, nevertheless, for whenever he had an attack so bad he was scared to sleep. He wished he could go back to an age where a song from his mum could take away any of his fears.

He fell asleep after the third repeat of the song, lulled to peace by the repetition and memories of his grandparents coming to visit for the holidays. It was the calmest his heart had been in almost a month, the scar on his side the furthest thing from his mind. 


	32. Second Chance at First Line Part Twelve

Staring down at the bag in front of him, Scott felt an overwhelming surge of existential dread. His stick was there, every part of his kit, any and all equipment he would need for a game, all checked and double checked. And triple checked. He was a tightly wound ball of anxiety. It wasn’t just that it was the first game he where he would actually be on the field, just that would be enough to feel him with fear, but he also had to deal with the possibility of losing control and hurting someone, or revealing what he was to someone. Scott wished he could be playing video games with Stiles again, just to feel the peacefulness he had the night before. 

His mum had texted him that she would be home in half an hour and they would go to the school right after that, giving him plenty of time to overthink everything and second guess himself. 

It was the first game of the season against one of the school’s biggest rivals, so there would be even more people there than normal, and Lydia had been going around making sure everyone would be watching. Scott wasn’t entirely sure why she did that, Scott wasn’t entirely sure why Lydia did anything at this point, but it was probably a culmination of her being annoyed at him wanting to drop out, and her being annoyed at him for injuring Jackson. Either way, Lydia was definitely annoyed at him. He couldn’t blame her. From her perspective, he was probably a massive pain in the ass.

To his side, the phone rang.

Scott answered it, recognising Allison’s name on the screen. “Hey.”

“Hi, I just wanted to call before the game,” she said. “Are you nervous?”

“You could say that,” he replied, chuckling slightly. “Just pre-game jitters.”

“You’ll be fine. I’ve seen you at practice; you’re awesome.”

“Thanks, I’ll try my best to remember that. Are you going to be there?”

“Of course. My dad’s taking me, so he’ll be there as well. His high school was more focused on basketball, so he’s interested in seeing lacrosse.”

Her dad. Chris Argent. The man who shot him with a crossbow on the night of the full moon. Her dad, Chris Argent, the man who shot him with a crossbow on the night of the full moon, was going to be attending the game where Scott was most at risk of losing control, at a game where Laura and Marin would also be attending. His anxiety shot up even more.

“Cool,” Scott said pathetically. “Are you looking forward to it?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a proper lacrosse game; other than what you guys have done during practice.”

“They’re pretty good to watch. I’ve been on the bench every game until now, so I think I have a pretty informed opinion.”

Allison laughed on the other line. “I’ll have to see for myself. Thanks. Good luck tonight, anyway. I’ll be there, next to Lydia.”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

The line went dead and Scott was left alone with his own thoughts and even more risks to consider. His heart was thudding even harder. He pulled his stuff out of the bag again and sorted through it. The helmet went in first, stashed in the corner, with his socks inside. Then it was his shoulder pads, neatly tucked together, his cleats in afterwards, freshly cleaned of any and all mud, then his gloves and his mouthguard. His stick went in on top with his jersey and shorts. Everything he needed, plus his water bottle. 

He sat on the bed heavily, clenching and unclenching his hand. 

There weren’t any signs of his claws, and his gloves would cover his hands anyway. His helmet would hide most of his eyes, and players tended to look at the ball and sticks, not the face. He just had to keep calm, trust himself and focus on his newly discovered anchor. The phone rang again. This time it was his mum.

“Hey, mijo,” she greeted. “I’m finished up a little early, so I’ll be home pretty soon. Just wanted to give you a little heads up.”

“Thanks, mum, I’ll see you soon,” he replied. “Did you have a good shift?”

“Not too bad. We had a couple kids in with broken bones, they’d done something stupid on their bikes, but that was the most exciting thing we’ve had.”

“Aren’t you glad that I stopped skateboarding years ago?” he teased. “That could’ve been me.”

Not now, now his bones would heal after a few seconds of a break, now they would heal almost perfectly. Possibly perfectly. One less thing for his mum to worry about, once he worked up the courage to tell her.

“You and Stiles more like,” Melissa countered. “If one of you has done something stupid, the other one is there.”

“That’s true,” he grinned. She had no idea how true that was now. 

“Alright, I’m just in the car, I’ll be back in about ten minutes, then we’re off for your game. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart, really, I am.”

“Thanks, mum. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

<>

“Do you think it’s a good idea to bring Derek with us?” Laura asked nervously, attempting to pull on her shoes. Marin laughed.

“For the twelfth time this hour, I think it’s fine,” she sighed. “You’re overthinking this, babe.”

“I’m worried.”

“I know you’re worried, but worrying won’t do you any good right now. We’ve made a decision, it’s a perfectly fine decision, and now we’ll stick to it. Are you aware you’re trying to put your right shoe on your left foot?”

“What?” Laura asked, looking down in surprise. “Oh, god. I’m really losing it.”

“You’ll be fine.”

Laura finished tying up her shoes properly and stood up, pulling Marin closer to her. “We have a little bit of time before Derek gets here and we need to leave.”

“Are you suggesting something?” Marin teased. Laura brushed their noses together and kissed her. “You feeling any better now?”

“Getting there,” she said, moving in for another kiss. “Even better, now.”

Just as it was deepening, Derek came in through the front door.

“Seriously?” he demanded.

“It’s our house and you’re early!” Laura protested.

“No I’m not. You said to get here at five and it’s five. I’m perfectly on time.”

“And for you that’s early.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes. Do you have a thicker coat? It’s going to be cold tonight.”

“Oh my god. Marin, please make her stop.”

“It will be cold,” Marin replied, looping her arm through Laura’s.

“Kill me.”


	33. Second Chance at First Line Part Thirteen

Scott was grateful for his mum’s constant talking as they drove to the school. It was good to take his mind off of what was ahead of him, and Melissa was talking about how she wanted him to be careful on the pitch, which was a lot more important to him than she realised. He took a deep breath, steadying himself.

“Hey, mum,” he began nervously. “You’ll love me no matter what?”

“Of course I will, sweetheart,” she replied, sounding concerned. “I get the feeling this isn’t all to do with the game, is it?”

“No, no.”

“Am I going to have to guess or …?”

“I’m, um, I’m still processing it and stuff, I don’t really have the words to explain it right now, but I’ll tell you the second I do,” Scott promised, hoping that would be enough. He just wanted to hear his mum tell him everything was going to be okay. “I know that’s not a great thing to tell you, but it’s all I’ve got at the moment.”

Melissa was quiet for a few seconds, thinking things over.

“Most importantly, I will love you no matter what, mijo. I need to start with that. If you can’t tell me about whatever’s going on, that’s okay, so long as you have someone else to talk to.”

“I do.”

“Good. Do you still want to do the game? I can tell them you’ve caught the flu, that I brought something back from the hospital, I could say that your asthma is acting up,” Melissa offered and Scott could tell she was only half-joking. “Hey, I would do it. Mental health is just as important as physical health, and I’m willing to break a few ethics rules to keep you okay.”

“I can play tonight. Besides, you booked tonight off to watch me play.”

“Spending the night just talking to you is still a good night. You’re a pretty great kid. And I raised you so you can’t deny that.”

Scott laughed softly. “You did good, mum.”

She dropped him off right by the changing rooms, giving him a kiss on the forehead for good luck and going to sit in the stands, looking out for the sheriff who would get there soon, based on Stiles’ texts. Scott went in, getting changed quickly. Still, despite spending so much time checking his bag for everything, had a quick rush of fear at the idea of forgetting something, until he’d put everything on. 

Everyone else was focused on getting ready themselves, filling the changing room with quiet murmurings and slamming locker doors. It hurt his ears, the stress of everything about to happen making his senses more alert, and Scott tried to even out his breathing. He glanced around, seeing the rest of the players finishing up, even those on the bench for that game. Stiles hadn’t shown up yet.

By his locker, Jackson was talking to some of the others, but with all of the background noise overwhelming him, Scott couldn’t make out the words. The dirty look Jackson sent him got the message across well enough. He wasn’t going to make this game easy for him. 

Stiles walked in, bag slung over his shoulder, already in his kit but without his padding. He sagged in relief when he saw Scott.

“You going to try to convince me not to play?”

“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” he said in response. “I know you’ve been talking to Laura and Deaton. Are they going to be here?”

“Yeah, Laura will be, I think she’s bringing Derek, and obviously Mrs Morrell will be with them, it would be weird if she wasn’t. Deaton’s got a surgery scheduled for half an hour, so he won’t be. It’s just … if I don’t play, I lose first line, Lydia will make my life hell and I will lose any semblance of normalcy that I have. I just need to do this.”

“Hey, we’ll figure out a way to get Lydia to back off. We’ve got Allison on our side. It’s one game that you really don’t need to play.”

“I want to play, though,” Scott cried out. “I’ve wanted to play first line since middle school, we’ve been training together since middle school, I’ve spent all summer by myself training as well, I want to do this. I want a semi freaking normal life. Do you get that?”

“I get it,” Stiles sighed, sitting next to him on the bench. “Just try not to worry too much while you’re out there, okay? Or get too angry. Or stressed.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“Don’t think about Lydia and Allison being in the stands. Or that Allison’s father is trying to kill you. Or that Peter is trying to kill you or control you. Or that he’s probably going to try and kill someone else, or make you kill someone else. If a hunter doesn’t kill you first. I’m sorry, I’ll stop.”

Scott knew that his friend couldn’t exactly stop his ramblings when he got caught up in it all, but usually a pointed look from him was enough to make Stiles realise he should stop. Apparently, not even looking at Stiles with horror and fear was enough to make him realise until it was already too late. He could feel the fear running through his veins, speeding up his heart dangerously fast.

They were being called out onto the pitch.

“Good luck,” Stiles told him sincerely. They hugged quickly, before making their way out with all of the other players. Scott went to the pitch whilst Stiles went to the bench. Lydia intercepted Scott, grabbing him by the collar of his jersey. Even with a lot of inches on her, Scott felt very threatened. 

“I just want you to remember one thing for tonight,” she said. 

“Uh, winning isn’t everything?” he tried hopefully. Lydia laughed, brushing casually at his shoulder. 

“Nobody likes a loser.”

With that comment, and a pat to his chest, Lydia left. Scott wasn’t worried about someone seeing that. Lydia was very interested in the lacrosse team winning, everyone knew that even if a lot of people didn’t understand why, and there were very few people in the school who didn’t understand being threatened by Lydia Martin was scary. 

  
  


<>

  
  


“I still don’t understand why I need to be here,” Derek complained. “The kid doesn’t exactly like me.”

“This is supposed to help make this better. Besides, you need to get out more.”

“I went outside yesterday.”

“You should go outside every day,” Marin pointed out. “It’s unhealthy to stay inside all the time.”

“Exactly,” Laura grinned. “Listen to my wife, she’s a psychologist. Also, I want you to understand that lacrosse is better than basketball. A lesson you failed to learn in high school.”

“I passed biology.”

Marin held her arm tightly to stop her from thumping his chest for the comment. It wasn’t a difficult subject, it had always been well known in their family that Laura was terrible at biology, but Derek, who had been in AP Bio all four years of high school, even when he transferred to New York after the fire, was thrilled that he had that to brag about. 

“I passed biology. A C is a pass. It’s just a pass, but it’s a pass nevertheless. Besides, we’re not here for that, we’re here for the lacrosse game.”

The group fell silent for a few minutes, along with the rest of the crowd as they waited for the two teams to go on the pitch. Laura looped her arm around Marin’s waist drawing her closer. They hadn’t been wrong about the night air being cold. Werewolves tended to run higher body temperatures than humans so whilst Laura wasn’t suffering, Marin didn’t have that benefit.

“It’s a first game, they’ll go easy, right?” Derek asked.

“You really didn’t go to any of my games, did you?” Laura sighed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I somehow didn't realise when I was planning out this fic, but it's going to be over 200 chapters long at this rate, so I just wanted to say thanks for sticking with it so far


	34. Second Chance at First Line Part Fourteen

Lydia had walked off back to the stands, and Scott was left standing alone, feeling the pressure continue to mount. Coach walked past him, not even looking at him, and it felt good to know that at least one person was still treating Scott the same as before the bite had happened, even after coach had refused to let him drop out of the game. Jackson was still able to play after all, and Jackson was the star player of the team, something that Scott was very happy to admit at this point. 

“How’s the shoulder?” he asked, sitting down next to Jackson. They were seated near Stiles and Scott could hear them plain as day. Scott almost wished he couldn’t, but it would help calm his nerves to know that he hadn’t hurt the other player too seriously. 

“It’s fine,” Jackson shrugged. 

“Feel any pain?”

“No,” he shrugged again and Scott was relieved. The star player was okay, he hadn’t hurt a teammate terribly, and he could just play normally, the way he had always hoped, just staying out of the worst of the fights. The way his mum had always hoped he’d play, most likely. 

“What if I gave it a big old punch? Would you feel any pain then?”

Sometimes Scott wondered how coach had become a teacher, or even been allowed near anything resembling a school. He could feel Jackson’s confusion, could hear his increased heartbeat and smell the changes in his hormones. The strange question had definitely put him on edge.

“Maybe.”

“Listen, just go out there, just give it your best,” coach began, sounding like he was about to give his speech from Independence Day like he did for bigger matches, “If you feel any pain, you just …”

“Just keep playing?” Jackson asked in bewilderment.

“That’s my boy.”

The whistle blew, distracting Scott from the conversation that would probably mentally scar anyone forced to listen to it, and the players all ran to their positions, either on the pitch or the bench. Scott briefly wondered what his mum would have thought about someone saying something like that to him. When he still had his asthma, when it was really bad when he was little, she probably would have killed someone for suggesting that he played through it. By high school, she would just yell at them and bring it up with the principal. Scott really hoped she didn’t hear any of it. 

He ran to his position, attacker, like he’d always wanted before, and tried to keep his breathing calm. In for four, hold for four, out for four. Again and again and again. If anyone asked, he was just trying to prevent getting a stitch. Of course, that thought prompted the idea of giving someone an injury that required stitches and Scott just wished that he could stop thinking. In the stands, he knew Laura, Derek and Mrs Morrell were watching, he could faintly hear the sounds of their conversation, and he knew his mum was there even without werewolf senses. 

“Please let this be okay,” he begged to anyone who could be listening. “Please.”

The sheriff went over to Stiles, crouching by his side. “Hey, kid. So, you think you’ll see any action tonight?”

Scott really wished the sheriff could speak just a little bit quieter, and use just slightly different phrasing. 

“Action?” Stiles asked, clearly thinking about what else could happen, other than lacrosse. “Maybe.”

Not the reassurance Scott was hoping for, but Stiles was being realistic. He pushed down the slight stinging, knowing that there wasn’t much else Stiles could say to his dad without making it worse. Saying that he wouldn’t see any would just disappoint the sheriff, and he was unaware of the double meaning of his words. Scott tried to do the breathing again, tried to find the peace that his newly-discovered anchor had given him. 

“Down!” the referee yelled, placing the ball in front of the two players in the centre. One of them was Jackson, ready and waiting. Scott wasn’t sure what he was planning to do in the game, but the team captain cared too much about winning to do anything that could even slightly jeopardise that. The year before, in the finals, he had played with a dislocated shoulder, because he thought there was no one else who could play his position well enough to win. He’d had to have a talk with one of the guidance counsellors after that, but it meant Scott just had to stay out of his way in the game. Forty-eight minutes, give or take. “Set!”

Another blast of the whistle and the game began, players reacting in a split second. Beacon were the champions for a reason. 

Jackson had gotten the ball, passing it to the nearest open player when he had nowhere to run. The ball was passed again, avoiding the opposing team, and avoiding Scott who was in the far better position to pass to. He was beginning to get the feeling he knew what Jackson had been telling the other players in the changing room. 

In an instant, the ball went flying the wrong way, disappearing on the ground as players tackled each other, looking for a way out of the blockade of people to search for the ball. Scott spotted it first, laying near him on the grass, and took a chance. He raced towards it, hoping to get there before risking tackling someone, not quite trusting himself to do it carefully enough.

Before he could reach the ball, a familiar angry weight crashed into his side, knocking him down onto the ground. Scott looked up to see Jackson scoop up the ball, clearly the player who had tackled him, take a few steps and score, making the crowd cheer loudly. He huffed in annoyance. Coach wouldn’t care about the tackle because Jackson had scored and the crowd had clearly forgotten, because Jackson had scored. It wasn’t like there were any rules against tackling your own teammates, entirely because it was such a stupid play that no one thought to implement the rule, and apparently the entire rest of the team were siding against him. Scott felt completely hopeless.

  
  


<>

  
  


“You know, I would have had detention for a month if I had tackled a teammate,” Laura grumbled angrily. “What a dick. Which kid is that?”

“That one?” Marin asked. “Uh, thirty-seven, that’s … Jackson Whittemore. Team captain.”

“Even more of a dick,” Derek said, darkly. Laura was competitive about lacrosse, Derek was too competitive about team sports. They had both been team captains, and knew exactly how a captain should act. Team captains weren’t supposed to tackle their own teammates. 

The kid scored a goal, after knocking down his own teammate, and the crowd cheered, ignoring the teenager lying on the floor in defeat. There was one woman who didn’t look particularly thrilled, a woman who bore a very strong likeness to Scott, who Laura assumed was his mum. She sent a disapproving look to Jackson, who was embracing some of his teammates, but stood up unwillingly to clap. 

Laura glanced down and saw the Argent girl with Natalie Martin’s daughter, holding a large banner, cheering on Jackson specifically. She winced in sympathy, knowing how it was just adding insult to injury on Scott. 

“Brutal,” the Stilinski kid said, sat on the bench. Laura had to agree with him. 


	35. Second Chance at First Line Part Fifteen

Scott got up off the floor, trying to fight through his anger at Jackson’s tackling him, and shook his head, his hair no longer in his eyes. He would need to get it cut soon. The sight of the sign being held by Lydia and Allison, displaying the painful words ‘We Luv U Jackson’, and cheering, was like being punched in the gut. Over the crowd, he could hear Laura and Derek angrily discussing the tackle, he could hear Stiles’ comment about the sign, and his mum looked very annoyed at Jackson. There were still some people in his corner. 

“Only to me,” Jackson said to another player, Ryan, in a firmly harsh voice. Scott wouldn’t have argued with it, before the bite, he knew that. 

“But what if he’s open,” someone else protested. All of a sudden, he knew exactly what the conversation was about.

“Who’s the captain?” Jackson asked aggressively. “You or me?”

“Jackson, come on, dude,” Danny protested. “I just want to win.”

“We will win.”

“But-”

“What did I say? What did I say?” Jackson demanded.

“Don’t pass to McCall,” Danny replied loyally, not happy about it.

Scott couldn’t think straight. It was one thing being suspicious that the team were talking about him behind his back, it was a completely different thing to be tackled by his own teammate and hear the captain telling everyone not to pass to him, over a petty rivalry. His heartbeat was increasing rapidly, blood rushing in his ears, and there was an increased strength in his limbs. 

  
  


<>

  
  


“Scott’s not looking so good,” Derek said very quietly.

Laura looked over. The kid was clearly tense, she could smell the mess of emotions off of him, and those two things combined usually resulted in a lapse of control. She spoke a little louder than her brother, hoping Scott would be able to hear her, “He can do this.”

On the pitch, the captain was arguing with a couple of the other players. Not typical behaviour after just scoring. Laura hoped maybe one of the kids was defending Scott, telling the Whittemore guy that tackling him was not the best call, but the tight line of Scott’s shoulder told her she was being overly optimistic. She risked listening in, leaning her head closer in an effort to block out some of the crowd. 

“What did I say? What did I say?” asked a teenager far too angry about a simple lacrosse game. 

“Don’t pass to McCall.”

For a brief moment, Laura felt her eyes flash bright red. Scott was already having to deal with learning to control his shift, the ever-looming threat of Peter, no matter how much Laura tried to protect him from that, and adjusting to becoming a werewolf. Now he had to deal with teenagers deciding to make his life hell for no clear reason. 

“What are they talking about?” Marin asked her gently, having noticed her eyes. Derek hadn’t. 

“They’re not passing to Scott. I can’t hear why.”

She could see how much that annoyed her wife, in the way her jaw clenched tightly and her eyes hardened, and Laura focused back on the game, tightening the arm around Marin’s waist. They were starting up again, none of the players looking happy. The rival team had just ceded a point, the home team were dealing with an overbearing captain. That wouldn’t result in a good game, and that would put Scott more at risk.

“He can do it. The other players don’t seem to like the idea of not passing to him, they won’t stick to it,” Marin told her. Laura nodded, and hoped Scott could hear it as well. 

  
  


<>

  
  


Scott could feel his eyes changing yellow, saw the glow reflected in the metal of his helmet, but found himself not caring. He knew it was the first sign of him losing control, no longer caring about repercussions, but with what was going on with the rest of the team, it made it much harder to cope. 

He bent over, a growl rumbling from his mouth and his breath steaming. It wasn’t loud enough for anyone on the pitch to hear, but it was definitely enough for Laura and Derek to hear. They would be getting worried. His struggled to fight for control, wanting to be able to get angry at the other players for what they were doing, for following Jackson even when they obviously knew it wasn’t helping them, Danny wouldn’t have said anything otherwise, but he no longer had that luxury, especially not on the pitch. 

The referee walked past him, getting ready to start the next play, and noticed him stood in place.

“You okay, kid?”

Speaking wasn’t a viable option anymore, Scott was too concerned it would come out in a growl, and his eyes were still glowing, so he nodded, still looking down. It most likely was not the most reassuring thing he could have done, but anything else would have revealed his fangs and his glowing eyes and his new ability to growl like a monster, which would ruin everything. Scott leaned up, and moved into position, noticing that everyone was starting to avoid him.

Whilst earlier it would have been a blessing to have fewer people looking at him, Scott found himself getting even angrier. He didn’t want to be the monster he was becoming, he didn’t want to be angry at the team. He didn’t want to be a threat to Jackson’s position as captain, or whatever he was angry about. All he wanted was a chance to be a normal kid on the lacrosse field, not worrying about dying or hurting anyone. If the wolf clawing under his skin hadn’t been there, steadily gaining control, Scott would have gone back to be the nerdy asthmatic kid on the bench, dreaming of first line. 

Instead, his control slipped even further.

  
  


<>

  
  


“This is not looking good,” Derek said. “The ref has noticed.”

“He just got tackled and knocked pretty hard to the ground, it’s normal for him to want to catch his breath,” Marin answered, sounding as if she was worried about the exact same thing. Laura was as well. “It shouldn’t make him stand out too much.”

Laura knew that Marin meant no one would suspect him of losing control. Still sat on the bench, Stiles looked like he knew what was coming, with his glove in his mouth being chewed on. She spoke softly, hoping that it would break through to him, “Come on, Scott. You’ve got this. Just focus on your anchor, you’ve come this far, you can play the game.”

  
  


<>

  
  


Scott took a few more deep breaths, and, as the whistle blew, starting the next play, he raced into the fray. 


	36. Second Chance at First Line Part Sixteen

“Down!” the referee yelled, as Scott noticed Lydia and Allison holding a different sign up for Jackson. He felt his eyes glow again. “Set!”

The whistle blew and there was a struggle for the ball. Their rivals managed to get control for a brief second, before flinging it into the air. He watched it soar, before making his decision. They were losing, badly, and they were at the end last quarter with no one wanting to pass to him, so Scott reacted in the way he thought would help. 

He ran at the player on the opposing team who was getting into position to catch the ball, jumped, and used the other player’s shoulder to launch himself high enough to grab the ball in the air. The crowd cheered, but Scott could barely hear them. All he was focused on was the game, not noticing how Stiles and Laura became more and more concerned for him, or any of the other knowing eyes that could realise what he was. 

Looking back on it, that should have been his clue that he really had lost too much control.

Scott landed neatly on the ground, the initial surrounding players looking too surprised to stop him, and sprinted, stick in hand. People recovered quickly enough. He dodged to the left to avoid the first player, the stick swinging at him, going right to dodge the second, and he could hear how excited the crowd were getting at their growing chances of scoring. The stands were only small and filled with Beacon students, so there was a significant advantage to playing at home, and so there were no groans of disappointment at each failed attack. He wasn’t too sure how well he’d respond to that.

Players kept coming, running at him determinedly, but, just like in tryouts, Scott felt like he had all the time in the world to dodge them. The goal was coming up, getting closer and closer, even more adrenaline flooding his system, and Scott realised he actually could score a goal, and give them a little bit more of a fighting chance. 

Approaching the net, he moved through the motions he’d been practicing for literal years, taking in the steady breath that had been needed in practice to help stop him from getting asthma attacks at the wrong time, and Scott threw the ball. 

  
  


<>

  
  


The crowd around them cheered loudly as the ball went into the night, a loud buzzer announcing the change in score, as if anyone hadn’t noticed. Laura clapped and cheered along with them, but felt herself growing nervous. It was one thing for Scott to try and join in with the game, it wasn’t at all his fault that his teammates weren’t passing to him, but using a rival player as a lift tended to draw people’s attention. 

“I’m assuming that’s not a common move in lacrosse,” Derek said.

“No,” Laura agreed. “Do you think people are going to talk about it?”

“He did a frontflip during tryouts,” Marin added. Laura tried to work out how that would have helped in a game but gave up. She couldn’t quite picture it, but she was sure there was something about the context she was missing. “Though I’m not sure if adding to the list of gymnastics would be better or worse.”

“There’s only a minute left, he’s just got to get through that,” Laura sighed. The referee was getting ready for a new play, and she watched as a teammate congratulated Scott. That would help him keep control, at least, and would take away one of the problems he was dealing with. 

She cast a look out over the crowd. The woman she had assumed to be his mum, looking much more like her yearbook photo now that Laura had got a better look at her, was cheering, doing the happy little jumping that Scott did when he was excited, her hands clasped together. Even the Martin girl, who seemed to only want the Whittemore kid to succeed, had stood up to cheer and clap, though a little more reserved than the rest of the crowd. Chris Argent was clapping as well, not looking as though he suspected something, but Laura didn’t trust him nevertheless.

They knew who orchestrated the fire, but they didn’t know who helped, and the Argent hunters had always been a family-oriented group, unlike many others. 

“To McCall! Pass to McCall!” coach yelled out from the sidelines, over Stiles’ excited cheering for his friend. Laura could feel the anger that number thirty-seven had over that. If it wasn’t certain that it would cause a problem for Scott, she wasn’t entirely sure she would care, given he had tackled his teammate. 

  
  


<>

  
  


Scott clapped Ryan on the back as they hugged, hearing some of the other team congratulating him. They were nearing the end of the game, less than two minutes to go, and it was obvious they were willing to do anything to not lose, even go against their very angry captain. Even coach was encouraging the ball to be passed to him, and that almost never happened. Coach, though very good at lacrosse, had always favoured Jackson when they needed to pull through. 

“Set!” the referee yelled before the whistle blew and the ball was passed to the opposing team quickly. Scott faced him, feeling his face shift, eyes glowing and fangs lengthening, and he could smell the player’s fear of him. Deep down, Scott was horrified at doing that, but the wolf part of him was taking over, shoving down those feelings in anger, feeling victorious when the ball was passed to him.

He took off running before he could even properly think it over, wanting to avoid anyone looking at his face for too long. Even as he lost control, he still had the gnawing fear of someone noticing. 

“Did the opposing team just deliberately pass us the ball?” coach asked from the bench, and Scott felt his heart lurch in fear, even as he kept running. 

“Yes, I believe so, coach,” Stiles replied, sounding worried, and that drew Scott back into himself a little bit. If Stiles was worried, Stiles who thought looking for dead bodies and murderers in the woods at midnight was a good idea, then he needed to reign it back in a little bit. His mum was in the stands, and she knew his abilities better than anyone. Had known his abilities better than anyone, before the bite. Now neither of them knew what he was really capable of. 

“Interesting,” coach said, seemingly having an idea. Scott had no idea what that meant. 

  
  


<>

  
  


Laura had watched as the opposing team threw the ball into Scott’s waiting stick, watched as he raced off, and heard coach talking to Stiles on the bench. Things were getting worse. She could only hope Scott was still aware of what he was doing. He was avoiding tackles, which seemed to suggest it, but there had been a quiet growl in the back of his throat earlier, that definitely wasn’t human. 

Scott approached the goal, threw the ball, and Laura had to admit that he was good at lacrosse, and then watched as the ball broke through the netting of the goalie’s lacrosse stick. She’d seen it happen before, when she’d practiced with cousins as a teenager she’d done it frequently, which was why she preferred to stay in goal, but coupled with the rest of the night’s events, that could cause a trained hunter to grow suspicious. 

The buzzer went and the crowd cheered. With the scores tied, the home supporters, pretty much everyone in the stands, minus a few parents, were a lot more optimistic about their chances. 

“What?” Laura heard Melissa McCall ask, the other woman glancing around in disbelief. She was happy about her son’s goal, but a nurse with a severely asthmatic son would know that it was almost impossible for him to do what he had just done in the last minute. 

“There you go, McCall!” coach cheered loudly, as the ref walked over. “What? The ball’s in the net.”

“The ball is in the net!” Stiles agreed. Technically, it did count as a goal, as it had counted in all the games Laura had played and there was no official rule against it. 

“We got it!” coach announced, blowing his whistle, and the crowd cheered again. Laura looked down, and saw Scott’s eyes as a bright golden glow, too small for a human to notice, but still there. 

“It’s just a little bit longer, Scott. You can do it. You’ve done this much already, it’s just a little bit longer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never actually played lacrosse, but I did play field hockey throughout all of school so I understand how a team works, though I might get some of the more specific stuff wrong


	37. Second Chance at First Line Part Seventeen

It was the last play of the game, Scott knew, they had thirty-nine seconds left on the clock and the scores were tied. He took a few steadying breaths, seeking out whatever Stiles and his mum was feeling. Finding Stiles was easier. For one thing, he was closer, for another, there was the constant smell of ADHD medication about him that no one else had. He was anxious, very anxious, but also happy, though Scott wasn’t entirely sure how well those two emotions were balancing.

When he found the scent of his mum, something that was just so unchangeably home about it, Scott found much the same thing. Melissa was happy, very happy, but there was worry there. She’d not seen him at tryouts, not seen him at practice. The last time she’d seen him play was when he was practicing during the summer and he’d triggered an asthma attack so bad that they’d nearly gone into the hospital again. 

“It’s just a little bit longer, Scott. You can do it. You’ve done this much already, it’s just a little bit longer.”

Laura’s voice was coming from further up in the stands, quiet, but still resolute in her faith in him. The wolf’s need to take control was still there, painfully present in his every movement and thought, but something had cleared in his mind. Scott just needed to hold out a little bit longer, then he could run away until everything calmed down. 

“Down!” the referee yelled for the final time that night. It was Jackson facing the opposing team this time and Scott was close enough to hear them. 

“Dude, what the hell’s up with your teammate? What’s he on?”

“I don’t know. Yet,” Jackson replied, a threat laced in his words. Scott knew he needed to avoid Jackson for just a little bit longer, definitely longer than just the game, if he wanted to keep it a secret from Jackson. Even if the other boy thought he was on drugs, their conversation about it hadn’t exactly been the most normal, looking into it any further when Scott was still learning would just put him at risk even more. 

The whistle blew and the play started, Jackson and the other player’s sticks slamming together to try and get the ball. It was passed to Scott and he ran to get a clear path, opponents surrounding him almost instantly, though keeping a relatively safe distance between them. People were getting suspicious and the worries that brought on were making him feel worse and worse, the anger of the wolf slipping through again. It had calmed down when he realised he had the team on his side, when he could tell his mum and Stiles were there, but on the pitch the monster roared through again. 

A growl slipped through, and he hunched over slightly. It was becoming too much.

The crowd’s shouting was hurting his ears, being surrounded reminded him uncomfortably of the hunters from the night of the full moon, and he still had enough control to not want to hurt anyone. Another growl slipped out, that one a little bit louder than the first. None of the players heard, he didn’t think. 

“No, Scott, no, no,” he could hear Stiles begging from the bench. “You got this, come on Scotty.”

“You’re nearly there, Scott,” Laura added from the bench. “It’s just a bit more and then you can go.”

“Come on, come on, come on,” his mum said encouragingly. “Deep breaths, mijo, deep breaths. I know you can do it.”

Time slowed down again, just like in tryouts, just like when he first caught the ball earlier in the game. His vision changed, becoming similar to when he lost all control, but it didn’t feel as dangerous, he didn’t have a compelling voice in his head telling him how wonderful it would be to tear into them with claws and fangs. Scott followed his mum’s advice, took a few more deep breaths, and, as the players surrounding him charged, he took the opening and threw the ball. 

The goalkeeper swung to catch it, missing by just a fraction of a second, and the ball hit the back of the net. If the crowd had been loud before, it was nothing compared to the sound it made when the whistle blew, signalling the end of the game. There were excited screams, the buzzer going to signal the goal had been scored, making it official, and coach blew his whistle triumphantly. 

“Yes! Yes! Oh my god!” Stiles yelled from the sidelines, waving his hands in the air. The main feeling was relief, but Scott could feel a lot of pride coming from his friend as well. It was too much.

His hands were beginning to hurt, his claws poking through his gloves, and he tugged them off before all of the fabric ripped. People were coming over, parents congratulating or consoling their kids, friends hugging the players, and Scott couldn’t risk anyone seeing him like that. Before anyone could reach him, he dropped the glove and ran, heading straight for the changing rooms, the first place his distraught mind thought of.

  
  


<>

  
  


Laura was thrilled when the whistle blew, and not just because Beacon had won the game in the last second. The crowd cheered loudly, racing down onto the pitch to meet the players, something that didn’t happen back when she used to play, but Laura stayed still, looking on the pitch at Scott who had remained very still. His right glove was off, held in the other hand, and he was looking down at something. His claws were out. 

“Do we need to be down there?” Derek asked in a panic. They watched Scott run off, his mum following him immediately, but no one else in the crowd seemed to have noticed, especially not Argent. 

“Not yet, but keep listening for him,” Laura said, watching as Stiles also went after them, managing to escape the sheriff’s talk with him. “Getting away from the crowd is probably the best thing he can do right now. How long do you think we can stay?”

“Coach is coming over,” Marin warned, watching the economics teacher approach them.

“We haven’t had a game like that since Avery started hitting the goalie in the semi finals,” he said as though the incident was something to be proud of. “Make you miss it, Hale?”

“The game? Yes. High school? Not so much,” Laura replied, wrapping an arm around Marin’s shoulders again. “At least the season’s off to a good start.”

“Never understood why you wanted to stay in goal,” coach continued, apparently not picking up on the very obvious social cues that they wanted to leave the conversation. “You miss all of the action!”

“Given what Avery was like, I’m okay missing all of the action.”


	38. Second Chance at First Line Part Eighteen

His heart was pounding in his ears as he collapsed into the changing room, slamming the door behind him. Scott didn’t have the presence of mind to check if anyone was following him, wasn’t thinking clearly enough to check if anyone was still in the changing room. It was dark and quiet and that was all he cared about. There was a growing pain in his body again, similar with what had happened on the full moon, but this time there was nothing to wait for, nothing to make it stop but himself. 

Throwing the helmet to the ground with a clatter, he walked over to the sink, grabbing onto it for support. It meant that he was facing the mirror and could see how his face was changing, bone shifting, making him look more like the monster that Peter was when he was attacked that night. His breath stuttered in his chest at the memory, fear flooding his system in response to his own reflection, and he fell away. Distantly, Scott could hear approaching footsteps and a caught the faintest breeze of a familiar scent, but he couldn’t place it.

Instead, he collapsed into the showers, turning the water on, desperate for something to help him gain control again. 

The footsteps were getting closer and closer, his breaths getting shorter and shorter, and his lips were bleeding as he bit them with his fangs.

With a growl, he realised the shower wasn’t working, the wet uniform sticking to his skin uncomfortably close, irritating his high-strung nerves. Scott hit the wall in frustration, noting with horror how the tile cracked slightly from his strength. Fear was taking over now, an emotion far more controlling than anger, and all he wanted to do was make it stop, but he couldn’t. It was like when he used to have asthma attacks when he was little, when his dad was still around. Desperately trying to be okay, to not seem weak, but knowing that it wouldn’t be enough and that someone would notice and realise how pathetic he was.

“Scott?” a voice called out from the doorway and he sank to the floor, claws digging into his legs to stop himself from attacking on instinct. He realised who it was. His mum. “Are you in here? Scott? It’s just me, sweetheart.”

He pressed himself against the wall, water still pouring onto his head, and willed himself to stay still. Even with his mum as part of his anchor, he was still too scared of hurting her to even imagine gaining control. The blood from his legs, cuts already healed and gone, was washing away down the drain and the sight of the red droplets flowing away messed with his already overwhelmed mind.

“I know you’re there, Scott, I’m gonna come over. I’ll be right here on the bench until you’re ready, does that sound okay?” she continued and Scott could hear her sitting down. Her nerves were higher, higher than maybe even his, heartbeat going wild, but her voice was soft and steady. “You take as long as you need, mijo. Do you need your inhaler?”

“No,” Scott managed to gasp out. It didn’t sound like a growl, he was infinitely grateful for that, but it was stressed and filled with fear and he didn’t want that weight on his mum. She had too much to deal with to begin with. 

“Do you want me to keep talking, or do you want quiet?” Melissa asked.

“Keep talking,” he said, hating how pathetic he sounded. “Just … anything.”

“Okay. Well, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that Maggie’s daughter Sophie is feeling much better after she was sick. Minor case of the flu, which you might have noticed going around. Abuelita called yesterday whilst you were with Stiles, she loves the birthday present you picked out for her. Says the necklace goes very well with a dress she likes to wear to Church, so those are double grandson points, if you were keeping track.”

Scott tried to focus on his mum’s words. It wasn’t easy by any stretch of the imagination, but soon enough he could clench his hands into fists without claws slicing into his skin, and his tongue ran over flat teeth, as opposed to fangs cutting into it. The box breathing Laura had taught him helped a lot, too, trying to figure out what it felt like to grow his ears and make his eyes glow, so that he could stop it. 

She’d be thrilled by the fact that he was managing to get back control, if she wasn’t too freaked out by watching him run off the pitch, having used another player as a springboard. Even Stiles had seemed shocked by that even after he’d front flipped over another player during tryouts. If he got kicked off front line, he could always join gymnastics. 

“Oh, and I forgot to mention yesterday, Zoe, you know your cousin, had her first daughter. First name is Camila, they haven’t decided on anything else yet. Only a few days early, so she’s all healthy. I’ve got the pictures saved on my laptop for when we get home.”

“Is Zoe okay?” he asked quietly, needing the conversation to keep going.

“Yeah, tired, but she just pushed a little human out of her. Not even little, actually, even if she wasn’t a premie she’d be big. That doesn’t always match up, obviously, you were late by about a week and you were tiny. Lots of hair. Camila’s got a lot of hair too.”

“I was thinking of maybe getting it cut short,” Scott told her and she gasped. He grinned without even realising it at first.

“But then you’ll look all mature and grown up and you won’t be my baby anymore,” she said and Scott knew if he looked round the corner she’d be pouting.

“I just ran off the pitch to cry, mum, I’m not exactly mature.”

“There’s nothing immature about crying, mijo. You got overwhelmed, and you dealt with it. That’s very mature,” she chastised. “The only immature thing about crying is thinking it makes you weak. Do you understand that, sweetheart? You’re not weak for crying, no matter what anyone else tells you.”

“I know, mum. I think I’m ready to go home now.”

He stood up slowly and turned off the water, shaking the worst of it out of his hair. Scott didn’t do it at home, the droplets got everywhere and it was something that him mum did call immature but it was a habit born of going to the swimming pool with Stiles every day during the summer when they were in middle school, to see who could make the biggest mess. When he saw how far the water had sprayed, a juvenile smile spread across his face.

“I’ve got your clothes if you want to get changed, okay,” Melissa said softly, hugging him despite his soaked kit. “I’ll be waiting just outside. I’m really proud of you, Scott, and not just for the game.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He unpacked his clothes from the bag, trying to limit how much water he dripped on them. Despite all of his nervous packing only a couple hours before, he hadn’t remembered a towel. Scott got changed quickly, desperate to just get home and forget everything about the match, and could hear his mum waiting outside the changing room. Someone else was approaching, rapidly.

“Scott!” Stiles yelled down the hall, immediately being hushed by Melissa. “Sorry, I got worried when he ran off.”

“I’m okay, Stiles,” Scott called out and he could feel the relief coming off of his friend. “I just got a bit overwhelmed.”

“Great, great. You might want to leave the long way, coach is looking for you and he’s in a talking mood,” Stiles warned. “And if anyone is overwhelming, it’s that guy.”


	39. Second Chance at First Line Part Nineteen

“You doing alright, buddy?” Stiles asked, immediately hugging him as he came out of the changing rooms, bag slung over his shoulder. Melissa didn’t question it, they’d always hugged, but they weren’t always as intense with their hugs. “Coach is very impressed.”

“He helped win the game, I think everyone’s impressed,” Melissa told him, ruffling his still drying hair. “Is your dad not looking for you, Stiles?”

“I think he’s still on the pitch,” Stiles replied. “He was talking to one of the teachers, something about the curfew, which is stupid ‘cause it’s not going to work.”

“There’s a wild animal on the loose, attacking people,” Melissa reminded them. “I’d rather you guys be at home more until something’s been caught, alright?”

Scott felt a jolt of guilt at the worry in her voice. Her knowing the truth would make that even worse, he knew, but listening to his mum believe something he knew was a lie wrecked him. Stiles met his eye and he knew they both felt the same way. They couldn’t tell their parents what was going on, but there was still the urge to tell them anyway.

“What? What am I missing?” Melissa interrupted them. 

“Oh, there was, um, there were wolf hairs found in the blood from the attack,” Stiles explained awkwardly. “Even though there haven’t been wolves in California in sixty years. It’s weird.”

“Right, well, I don’t want to hear conspiracy theories.”

They left the changing rooms the long way, looping around to the car park. Most of the people were gone, the minibus carrying their rivals gone with the opposing team, and only a few cars left. Scott picked up the scent of Laura and the faint sound of her voice, from far away. Her car was still there, parked the furthest from the end, and Scott craned his head round trying to spot her, to let her know that he was okay.

He spotted her to the side, stood with Mrs Morrell, talking very quietly. They looked stressed. Stiles raised his voice slightly, smirking at Scott, and it drew their attention. Scott grinned at his friend and turned again to wave at them. Laura gave him a proud smile, waving back.

“Who are they?” Melissa asked as they climbed into the car, Stiles going over to his dad who was waiting for him awkwardly. 

“Oh, um, the one on the left is Mrs Morrell, she’s a French teacher and guidance counsellor. She’s Dr Deaton’s sister. And then that’s her wife Laura. They visit the clinic sometimes,” Scott said nervously. 

“Laura Hale?”

“Yeah.”

“Tragedy what happened to their family. I went to school with their parents, you know. I had maths with their dad every year - only other kid in the class who spoke Spanish, so we stuck with each other a bit. So awful what happened, it must be terrible not knowing who did it.”

“Yeah,” Scott agreed. It was probably even worse knowing who did it, but having no proof. He got his phone out and saw he had a few messages. A couple were from the team, telling him good job during the game, one was from Stiles telling him they would talk more tomorrow on Skype, and one was from Allison

_ Hey, saw you run off at the end of the game. I hope you’re feeling okay. _

_ Hi. I’m alright, I just got a bit overwhelmed and light headed. I’m doing a lot better now.  _ He wrote back, writing and re-writing the message multiple times until he reluctantly hit send.

_ I’m glad you’re alright. You did really great in the game, you missed coach calling you his star player. _

_ I can’t imagine Jackson was thrilled to hear that. _

_ No, but he tackled you, so he deserves to lose out on the title. It didn’t hurt too much, did it? _

_ Just shock more than anything else. Makes it feel worse than it actually is. Did you enjoy the game? _

_ Yeah, I think I get why lacrosse is such a big deal in Beacon. _

  
  


<>

  
  


“Are you sure he’s getting suspicious?” Laura sighed, resting her head in her hands at the kitchen table. “About us? Scott said the kid thought it was steroids, he talked about it during the game.”

“He had Scott’s glove and it had holes where his claws had gone through,” Derek repeated. He was the only one in the kitchen not sitting down, stood by the sink and watching the other three carefully. “Steroids don’t do that.”

“No, I can’t imagine that they do.”

It fell silent for a few moments as they all thought over their options. There weren’t a lot. At best, the Whittemore kid would lose interest in them and, assuming that Scott was on drugs, force the school to give him a drug test that he would obviously pass. At worst, Peter would bite him and they would all get killed by hunters for being threats. Laura glanced at the clock, noting the late time. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna figure this out tonight,” she sighed again. There were noises of agreement and everyone started to move, getting ready to leave. “We’ll just get some rest and talk about it later. So long as we’re careful, Whittemore won’t figure anything out and we can just focus on Peter.”

“I’ll text you when I get home,” Derek promised, hugging her briefly.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Alan stayed for a little bit longer, going over their session for Scott on Monday, before calling it a night and going home. There was a small folder amongst Laura’s work-related folders specifically for lessons that made her feel far too grown up and detailed everything she could remember from her own training, modified for a bitten beta and with Alan and Marin’s knowledge. It was slowly being added to, little notes based on whatever Scott mentioned to her that she thought might be useful, and other things to teach him that would make being a werewolf slightly more bearable for him.

“Did he really play well?” Alan asked as he was going to the door. Laura could sense the excitement on him. Scott had mentioned how much he had worked for first line and she didn’t doubt Alan knew exactly how much he worked and how much he wished for it. 

“Yeah, he did really good. Coach called him the star player.”

Laura wished Scott could see the proud grin on her brother-in-law’s face when she said that. She grinned in response and told him good night, going upstairs where Marin was showering, getting ready for bed. Sitting on the bed, she thought through everything that had happened. There was still the threat of hunters, Peter was still on the loose, and they had the added problem of Whittemore possibly learning their secret, but Scott had played well in the game and it was hard to feel hopeless when they’d managed something.

“What are you smiling about?” Marin teased, walking out of the bathroom a few minutes later. “I thought you’d still be thinking about earlier.”

“Saving it for tomorrow,” Laura replied as she got up to get changed. Marin was already in a shirt oversized in a way that made Laura think it might have been hers at one point, though she couldn’t remember when, and climbed into bed. “Today went very well and we’re probably not going to get a lot of days where we can say that, so I’m enjoying it whilst it lasts.”

“Not a bad idea,” Marin agreed. 

“Are you stealing my pillow?” Laura asked when she went into the bathroom, hearing the sheets moving. There was a muffled no from the bedroom and Marin’s heart skipped over the word. She laughed. “I’m a walking lie detector, babe.”

“You’re too far away and your pillow is right next to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter for this episode to go!


	40. Second Chance at First Line Part Twenty

“Good morning,” Marin mumbled, blinking against the bright sunlight coming in through the unclosed curtains. “What time is it?”

“Ten, I think,” Laura replied. “We didn’t close the curtains last night.”

“I can see that.”

“I can barely see anything,” she said, burying her face back into her pillow. “We don’t have to get up yet, do we?”

“No, it’s Sunday.”

Laura sighed contentedly, wrapping an arm around Marin’s waist, and tried to fall back asleep. It didn’t work. The sun was too bright and her brain was too alert to drift back off again. She fidgeted a little bit, kicking at the blankets to try and get comfortable, before giving up entirely. 

“Can’t get back to sleep?” Marin murmured, eyes not opening. Laura hummed, before kissing her cheeks lightly. Marin didn’t respond. She kissed the tip of her nose, trailing kisses up to her forehead and then back down to her chin. Marin was wriggling now, playfully attempting to get away but refusing to open her eyes, and Laura grinned. The next path went down the side of her wife’s neck, stopping at the spot where her neck and shoulder met, a place where Marin was incredibly ticklish.

“Awake now?” she teased as Marin laughed. 

“You’re evil,” Marin said, pulling her close anyway. “But yes, I’m awake now. Are you happy?”

“Very,” Laura replied, rubbing their noses together before moving in for a kiss. “Besides, we’re going to have to deal with our brothers all day. Do you really not want to have the morning together?”

  
  


<>

  
  


Scott slept in until noon. 

It wasn’t the first time and it probably wouldn’t be the last time, werewolf or not. He had a text from his mum, explaining that she would be at work until five, which was normal for Sundays. There were a few texts from Stiles, deciding what time they would be skyping, and a couple of texts from Laura and Deaton, which he was slightly surprised by. 

_ I heard you were the star player last night. You should be very proud of yourself.  _ Alan had texted him.  _ And to do it whilst struggling for control is so much more impressive. _

_ You did really great last night, Scott. Well done. _

Scott hadn’t realised that they would care about how the game went, beyond him keeping his control. He couldn’t fight the smile as he got up, reading the messages over a few more times. It was harder to be pessimistic about the whole thing now that he’d managed the first massive hurdle. Now, Scott had a different kind of hurdle. Catching up on all of the work he had fallen behind on because of training for lacrosse and practice sessions with Laura.

Chemistry was the worst of them all. It was an AP class, which meant a lot of work, and it was taught by Harris, which meant all of the work was ridiculously hard. Scott reasoned, whenever the workload got too high, that having a low pass rate in a class reflected more in the teacher than in the class, but it rarely did much to reduce the piles of essays and research he had to do. Sometimes it didn’t even make him feel better.

But the textbook was full of scribbled notes he’d made during lessons and before being bitten he was up to date, so Scott was pleasantly surprised to find that the two weeks worth of work only took him half the day, as opposed to the half of the week he had been expecting. It was when he was considering taking a break for dinner that his laptop pinged signalling a call from Stiles, an hour earlier than he was expecting. 

“Hey, Scotty,” Stiles greeted. “Why’d you look so confused?”

“You’re an hour early, I thought something might be wrong.”

“What? Oh, yeah, I was looking at the clock on the wall and it’s still an hour late. Not really sure how that keeps happening, dad fixes it like once a week. Anyway, how’s homework going? You don’t look like you might cry, so that’s a good sign.”

“I’ve got through Harris’ stuff which is the worst of it.”

“You know, it’s probably not good that the amount of work from one class is more than the amount of work from all of our other classes,” Stiles mused, sharing Scott’s sentiments exactly. “I mean, hell, you’re in Lydia’s maths class and it’s still not as much work, and she practically asks the teachers for more work. Hey, maybe that’s why we have so much chemistry stuff?”

“Maybe,” Scott smiled. “Have you done his essay on isotopes yet?”

“No, and I don’t want to, either. I mean, seriously, he must hate all students and happiness to set a five-page essay just on isotopes. We have other homework to do, as well.”

“Yeah, but he thinks other classes aren’t as important as his, so he doesn’t care,” Scott countered. Stiles groaned in annoyance and Scott was fairly certain the thud off-screen was Stiles’ chemistry textbook being knocked to the floor.

“Oh, by the way, there’s a police dog that needs it’s stitches out tomorrow, it got held back a week or so for a reason I don’t know,” Stiles began, “So my dad’s gonna be at the clinic during your shift tomorrow. I’m guessing Deaton already knows what story Laura and stuff are going with but I just wanted to let you know.”

“Thanks, yeah, I think they’ve got an alibi, or something. I figured the less I know about it, the better, really. Your dad might find it weird if I know exactly where the Hales were that night. Plus, he still thinks I didn’t go out with you that night.”

Stiles grinned. “Yeah, let’s not tell him that two of us were out looking for a dead body. That would probably double the trouble we’d get, instead of halving it. Hey, dad’s got a late shift tonight, if you want to come over?”

“I’ve gotta finish the English essay, and mum will be back in an hour. After my freakout at the game, I think she wants me to stay home for a little bit longer.”

“That’s fair. Are you going to tell her about the werewolf thing any time soon, or are you waiting?”

“I’m waiting,” Scott sighed.

He didn’t want to wait, he didn’t like lying to his mum for anything, especially not when all he wanted to do was curl up in her hugs and be hidden from the threats facing him for at least a little while. But telling Melissa would involve telling her how he got bit, which would involve telling her about the threat of Peter, and telling her about the threat of Peter would involve telling her about the threat of hunters, and then she’d be scared for him and she would be in danger. 

And, his worst fear of all, she might think he was a monster.

“Good plan,” Stiles said. Scott was pretty sure he would have said that no matter what his answer was, but it felt good, anyway. “When you do tell her, are you gonna get Deaton and Laura to help?”

“Maybe just Deaton; she knows and trusts him, she’ll know it’s not a joke that way, and Deaton’s an actual adult, to her. Laura’s parents went to school with mum, it’ll be pretty difficult to see her as an adult.”

“This is a really small town, huh?”

The call went on for about half an hour before Scott’s grumbling stomach interrupted him. They signed off and Scott went downstairs, checking his phone as he did so. His mum was being held back a little bit at work, one of her last patients suddenly deteriorating, and that she would be late home. He still put enough food on for the both of them, getting out a tupperware box for her portion, and, when it had cooked and cooled down enough, he put it in the fridge and left a note.

Despite waking up at noon, Scott was already exhausted when he went back up to his room. He dragged himself to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, and collapsed on the bed, face still damp. Sleep came surprisingly quickly, even taking into consideration how tired he was, which should have been his first clue that something was wrong. 


	41. Pack Mentality Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little on the gory side, so I'm sorry if you struggle with that, it's fine to just skip this one

Scott laughed as he pulled Allison along, the crescent moon shining down on them, heading in the direction of the school buses. He wasn’t quite sure what they had been talking about before bursting out of the doors but it was a good conversation and he felt truly calm and relaxed, for the first time in weeks. Allison was behind him, also laughing, though he wasn’t sure what they were laughing about anymore, and Scott wasn’t sure why he wasn’t concerned about that.

“Come on,” he encouraged, approaching the door. 

“Where are you taking me?” she teased.

“Somewhere we can be alone.”

“We are alone.”

“Someone where we can be more alone,” he corrected and they laughed again. It wasn’t particularly funny. Scott opened the door behind him, not breaking eye contact with Allison, and grinned at her. “Come on.”

They went onto the bus, the old vehicle creaking slightly, and settled into the seats. Underneath his touch, the plastic leather seats felt even faker than it did when he used to get the bus, but the smell of the cleaning products, ones that burned his human nose, was gone. It was a strange mix, but he ignored it. Allison was sat opposite him, grinning in the dark. They were silent for a few moments, simply smiling at each other, and Scott found it odd to not feel the anxious need to fill the silence.

Instead he leant closer, Allison mirroring his actions.

His hand gripped the back of one of the chairs and claws began to grow, digging into the plastic, cutting it. Allison was beginning to look concerned, the sound of the ripping plastic practically deafening in the night. Scott felt his breath coming harder, heartbeat speeding up, and he knew what was coming but there was nowhere to run.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, sympathy in her eyes. Scott tried to pull away, tried to hold back his more dangerous urges, and fell back down on the seat. Allison came closer, still looking worried, and he pressed away. Even before he moved, he could see images of her lying on the floor, skin bloodied and torn, red dripping down his clawed hands and staining his face. It was horrifying. 

“Get away,” Scott growled, trying to scare her away. Scaring her was infinitely better than hurting her. 

“Scott?” she continued and he gritted his jaw, fangs cutting into his mouth. 

Hair was sprouting on his face, bones shifting, and his eyes glowed gold in the shadowy dark. He had lost all control, rational thought gone, and the only thing he wanted was the feeling of tearing into her. 

“Scott?”

“Get away from me!” he growled again, turning to face her. The look of horror on her face was almost enough to shock him back into control, but instead Scott felt unfamiliar anger welling up. It wasn’t like when he normally lost control. 

When that happened, it was any minor grievance exploding, tiny slights magnifying to catastrophic levels, and all emotions were undeniably his, though monstrously mutated. The anger in him, the rage simmering just underneath his skin, felt alien, more foreign to him than his urge to kill. For just a moment, the only sound in the bus was their laboured breathing, Allison’s panicked and scared, Scott’s angry. 

Allison took a slow step back, then another, and another, until she was running to the front of the bus, almost to the door. He pounced quickly, grabbing her leg, dragging her down to the floor with a loud and painful thud. She screamed loudly, loud enough that someone on school grounds would have heard, but there was no one there, no one to help her. Scott dragged her towards him slowly as she grabbed at the seats, fighting to get away. 

Her foot broke free of his grip and she turned to look at him, face bloodied from her fall. The unmistakable scent of the blood only fuelled his murderous rage more. She kicked at him, hard, and Scott was shoved against the back wall of the bus, hard metal unrelenting against his spine. He growled at the pain. Allison was up and running back to the front of the bus, reaching the windowed door and looking out into the rainy night.

It hadn’t been raining before. 

Scott tried to restrain himself, hitting the chair nearest to him in frustration, trying to get out of the anger that was consuming him. The blood and the fear in the air wasn’t helping, making the human part of him panic and scared, allowing the wolf inside him to gain even more control. He yelled, tearing the seat from the floor and throwing it down the bus. Allison shouted again, terrified, and shoved at the door.

Her fingers found a small gap, just beginning to prise it open, but the wolf wouldn’t allow Scott to let her escape. Scott clambered nimbly over the chairs, approaching her, and he could taste her fear, making him want her blood. The door was open even wider.

His hand covered her mouth, muffling a scream, and Scott dragged her back into the bus. Claws cut into her skin, blood spraying over them both, and soon Allison’s screams and cries died down to nothing, and Scott was left panting, soaked in red, horrified with himself. Heart beating faster and faster, the thudding becoming deafeningly loud, echoing painfully in his ears.

Suddenly he woke up, thrashing in his bed, legs tangled in the blankets. There was no blood, no body, and he was in his room, not still on the school bus, but Scott was still terrified, still overwhelmed with guilt. His eyes were glowing in the dark of the room, so similar to what had happened on the bus that he had to close them, and he could feel that his claws and fangs were out. 

“It was just a dream, just a dream,” he muttered, willing himself to believe it. He couldn’t. “I wouldn’t hurt someone, I wouldn’t hurt someone.”

Scott crawled out of bed, dragging himself to the bathroom. He could hear his mum asleep in her room. Ordinarily, whenever he had a bad dream, he would have gone straight to her for reassurance, no matter how old he got. With the fears of blood being on his hands, metaphorically and physically, Scott couldn’t think of anything more horrifying. No matter what, he was convinced if his mum saw that, he would forever be an irredeemable monster in her eyes. 

The cold water splashing his face helped calm his mind, making the sweat on his skin slightly less constricting, and Scott tried to think. It had just been a dream. There was no way that he could have done what he had seen. There was no way he’d gone to the school in the night, there was no way he’d contacted Allison, asking her to go to the school, and he really tried to believe there was no way he could hurt someone. The sensory memory of claws slashing through skin that the line of thought brought up made him feel sick. 

“It was just a dream, it was just a dream,” he repeated quietly, like a mantra, and went back to bed. The sheets were cold to the touch, messed up from his thrashing, and the window was wide open. He thought he had closed it when he went to sleep hours earlier, remembering Peter being able to lure him into the forest just after he’d been bitten. “It was just a dream, it was just a dream.”

No more dreams came to him when he eventually fell asleep, pale sunlight filtering through the now closed window, and Scott couldn’t shake the unnerving feeling that what he’d seen wasn’t a dream either. 


	42. Pack Mentality Part Two

There were some mornings when Laura really hated her alarm clock. On the days when she needed to go into work early for a meeting, when it went off half an hour before Marin’s because she knew she’d need time to properly wake up and function, she hated it most of all. The beeping was quiet, Laura didn’t need it to be loud to wake up, and that way it didn’t wake up Marin as well. She slammed her hand down on the clock a little harder than necessary, and burrowed back into the warmth of the covers for a few more minutes. 

Marin was still fast asleep, arm slung around her waist, and completely undisturbed from her movements. Monday mornings were the worst, for everyone, but Laura was really beginning to hate them. Their talks the day before with Derek and Alan hadn’t resulted in a perfect plan, or much of a plan at all, but they were all on the same page, mostly. Getting up meant having to go in to deal with work and the looming threat of dealing with another ‘cult case’, only this time knowing exactly who was doing it. 

“You need to get up soon,” Marin mumbled. Laura groaned and shifted closer. “That’s not getting up, Laur.”

“Fine.”

She shuffled into the bathroom slowly, letting the water heat up in the shower, and took off her pajamas. It wasn’t until steam had completely fogged up the showerdoor that Laura stepped inside. Cold water was useful for resisting loss of control, the coldness enough to shock someone out of whatever thoughts they were having, but warm water was a necessity for waking up, alongside coffee. 

By the time she got out of the shower, partially dressed for work and drying off her hair, Marin was beginning to get up. They shared a kiss, Marin going into the bathroom to begin getting ready. Laura finished off frying her hair, brushing through it as best she could, and checked her email. There was nothing indicating any problems, or anything she had to pay extra attention to. Then something popped up on her screen, only a few seconds before Marin’s phone pinged, the sound for her receiving an email.

“Fuck,” Laura said in horror.

“What? Has something happened?” Marin asked, coming out. 

“I’ve just got an email, I think you’ve got a similar one,” she replied. “A school bus was attacked. Wild animal, they’re guessing.”

Marin grabbed her phone, checking over the message. It was a slightly more reserved explanation of what happened; Laura needed to know the details of the case and the teachers didn’t need to know the explicit details of the attack. What stood out to them was the mention of a ‘large predator’ and blood found.

“Why would he attack a bus?” Laura asked. “There must have been someone on the bus he wanted, but who?”

“Could it have been Scott?” Marin asked. “The school hasn't mentioned that a student was involved, you would have been told if a minor was involved, but that’s the only person he would have, isn’t it?”

“Derek’s got enough control to resist him if Peter tried to call him to the school, and he wouldn’t want to go with him anyway. It might have been Scott, I’ll text him just to be sure,” Laura replied. “Peter wouldn’t kill Scott, he still thinks he can use him, right?.”

Marin went over the emails again, scanning the pictures for any clues, whilst Laura texted Scott. It was a little too early for a teenager to be awake, but if Scott had been called by Peter, he might be up. Or he might be too tired from the night. Or he might have been killed on the bus, and Laura was two seconds away from another emailing confirming that a body had been found. 

_ We think Peter did something last night, are you alright? _

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Marin said, hand resting on her shoulder. “Just give it a minute, and he’ll reply. We just need to be a little bit patient and wait.”

As they waited, going over the pictures together, Laura felt her nerves increasing more and more with each passing second. Marin’s reassurances helped but they weren’t enough to keep her calm. It was only when her phone buzzed with a text that her heart rate went back down to safe levels.

_ I’m just getting ready for school. Thanks. _

“See, he’s fine,” Marin said, sounding casual, but Laura could feel the relief radiating off of her. “It’s like you said, Peter still thinks he can control Scott.”

“Yeah,” Laura sighed heavily. “That’s one less problem. There was blood in the bus. That means he’s attacked someone, probably badly, and that gives the hunters even more reason to come for us. It must have been someone important to Peter, because otherwise he wouldn’t have gone near the school. So he’s probably killed a hunter, which throws their code out of the window if they even followed it in the first place.”

“You’re overthinking this,” Marin interrupted. “Peter made the symbol for revenge in the deer, remember? He’s thinking clearly enough to do that, so he won’t do anything too stupid. He must have tried to call Scott. Since Scott’s okay, it probably failed.”

Laura rested against her wife for a few brief moments. She tried to rationalise everything. Peter obviously had some wits about him. One of her first lectures at law school, a very long time ago now, had been explaining myths about how the law worked. Most notably, ‘insanity’ could only be used as an excuse if the culprit didn’t understand what they did was wrong. Peter didn’t exactly fit that model since he was hiding and plotting. But she doubted that her uncle, after watching most of their family, including his two children, burn to death, and then being trapped in a decade long coma, was completely stable after all of it. Hating the Argents was understandable, even without the fire, but with her mum as Alpha he would never have tried it.

Scott, she trusted, was safe enough. After he’d escaped the first time, when Laura found him, she was willing to bet Peter had been surprised by the amount of willpower the teenager had shown. And if he was simply getting ready for school that morning, then he wasn’t involved in whatever happened the night before, or, at the very least, he wasn’t hurt. Laura was fairly certain Scott would have told her or Alan if he was hurt. 

“Deep breaths, Laur,” Marin reminded her. 

“I know. I should probably head to work soon. Since they seem pretty convinced it’s an animal attack, I might be able to get in a visit with Alan,” she suggested. Laura leant in close for one last kiss, lingering a little longer than she normally would. “Love you. Good luck today.”

“Love you too. I’ll be fine. Teenagers love this morbid stuff. If we were that age and didn’t know it was supernatural, you would be desperate to investigate and find out what happened.”

“And since we’re older and know that it’s supernatural, I would really like to ignore it,” Laura replied. “I should be home before you so any special requests for dinner?”

“Nothing off the top of my head.”

Laura drove slowly into work. The roads were still fairly empty, it was a small town and early morning, and it gave her time to call Alan who was always awake first thing in the morning. It was a bit of a strange habit but they lead very strange lives and it was good to have someone in the pack who was alert in the early hours.

“Laura, is everything alright?” he asked when he picked up, only on the second ring.

“Yeah, we’re all okay. We think Peter attacked a school bus last night. Obviously no kids on it but the pictures showed blood so someone was hurt.”

“Is Scott alright?”

“When I texted him he said he was getting ready for school, so he’s obviously not too upset by anything,” she explained. “Work is getting involved because there’s obviously something going on and the sheriff will probably want to talk to you.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” he replied, “Are you sure it’s Peter?”

“The pictures are pretty brutal; the back part of the bus is missing. I don’t know many mountain lions that could do that without being faced by a serious threat.”


	43. Pack Mentality Part Three

Scott had been jumpy since he woke up. It had felt like real life, not at all like a dream, and that was the worst part. He had never wanted to hurt anyone, had never had the urge to hurt anyone, until he was a werewolf and now he was dreaming about tearing someone apart, limb from limb. His mum left before he woke up, the second time, and so Scott had the large, empty house to himself. When his phone buzzed with a text from Laura, Scott was so caught up in his own head that he flinched.

_ We think Peter did something last night, are you alright? _

Cold terror dripped down his back. His breath shortened in his chest as he stared down in horror at his hands. It was easy to picture blood dripping down his fingers, claws emerging, and Scott wondered if he was imagining the image or remembering it. His stomach knotted with nerves. They assumed it was Peter who had done the attack, not him. What would they do when they found out it might have been him? Scott chose to answer the question Laura had asked him, and to figure everything else out later. They had another session that evening.

_ I’m just getting ready for school. Thanks. _

It wasn’t technically a lie, he was justifying things with that too much recently, and explaining he’d had a nightmare felt a little silly, even with his worries. Laura already had so much on her plate, his stupid dreams would just be a distraction, even more than the distraction she already had of having to train him. Scott sighed heavily, throwing his phone down on the bed, and sat down. His bag was opened by his side, textbooks peeking out, waiting for him to close and be taken to school. 

Guilt was eating him up, clawing at him from the inside not unlike the way his new anger clawed at him when his control was slipping, and it felt like panic was going to overcome him. He had hurt someone, he had tricked them into following him to the school, tricked them onto the bus, then attacked them. Killed them. Killed Allison as she screamed and screamed and screamed until she was permanently silent. Guilt was doing more than just eating him up at this point. 

Scott took a deep breath. 

In for four, hold for four, out for four. 

He tried to think it through logically. If Allison had been hurt, being the daughter of hunters, then Laura would have warned him that they would have permission to attack, because of their code. If they suspected Peter had done something, then it would be something not connected to the school. If he had attacked someone, he wouldn’t have woken up in bed without any proof of hurting anyone. But something had happened with Peter the exact same night Scott had a nightmare about murdering Allison. Or they had just assumed that a monstrous attack had to be Peter because only a monster would be capable of something so horrific. 

Scott cycled to school slowly, overthinking too much to go quickly, and finished locking his bike just as Stiles pulled up. They had known each other long enough for Stiles to notice that something was definitely wrong.

“What happened? Did you get hurt?” he demanded, rushing over. “Did Peter hurt you?”

“I had a bad dream,” Scott replied, not wanting to scare his friend too much.

“Like when Peter drew you out to the woods?” Stiles asked, hefting his school bag on his shoulder. “When he was that big monster thing?”

“No, that wasn’t a dream; I actually saw him and was awake and stuff. But it felt real.”

“What happened, Scotty? You’re looking all scared and stuff.”

Scott gritted his jaw. It was a childish fear, something he knew was stupid, but it felt like saying the dream aloud would make everything that happened in it real. But he needed to talk about it to someone, needed to get those awful images out of his head, and Stiles was who he trusted the most. 

“I was hanging out with Allison at the school, it was kinda late at night. We, uh, we were leaving the main building and going towards the buses. Went on the bus and then I lost control. I cut at her, I dragged her down to the floor,” Scott explained as they walked towards the doors. “There was so much blood, Stiles.”

“So, you killed her?” he asked, obviously focusing on the most important part.

“I don’t know,” Scott replied. “I just woke up. And I was sweating like crazy and I couldn’t breathe. I’ve never had a dream where I woke up like that before.”

“Really?” Stiles asked and Scott could sense a joke coming. “I have. Usually ends a little differently.”

“A, I meant I’ve never had a dream that felt that real, and B, never give me that much detail about you in bed again,” Scott said, the lack of sleep making him irritable. 

“Noted. Let me take a guess here though.”

“No, I know,” Scott interrupted. The thought had been weighing heavily on his mind. “You think it has something to do with me going out with Allison. Like I’m gonna lose control and rip her throat out.”

“No, of course not.” Scott gave his friend a knowing look. “Yeah, that’s totally it. Hey, come on. It’s gonna be fine, alright? Personally, I think you’re handling this pretty freaking amazingly. You’re even taking what’s basically a Lycanthropy for Beginners class, which is so cool, you have to admit.”

“Yeah, not as cool when you have dreams of murdering people,” Scott sighed. 

“I guess,” Stiles agreed. “It’s probably just a dream.”

“Yeah, I know but chasing her,” Scott explained, “Dragging her to the back of the bus, it felt so real.”

“How real?”

“Like it actually happened.”

They continued down the hallway, approaching the end door to the outside seating area. That section was saved specifically for summer as it was too cold to sit out there at any other time. But it was the quickest way to get to their first class and they were already running later than they would like. The doors opened and Scott felt Stiles hitting his arm, getting his attention for something. Scott drew his gaze away from the direction of their classroom and instead looked at the destroyed and bloodied school bus in front of him. 

“I think it did.”

His heart stopped.

The area was swarming with police officers and teachers, trying to keep away curious students. It was taped off, though that probably didn’t help much, with inspectors and officers looking at all of the evidence. Hanging off the back of the bus was the door, bent out of shape and bits of broken glass in the frame the only remnants of the window. Blood was splattered all over the back, and Scott caught the scent of even more inside, making him feel overly nauseous. There were several handprints on the windows and walls, someone having desperately tried to escape whatever was attacking them. Claw marks had cut through the metal and ripped the seats as a police officer photographed the inside, stuffing littering the floor. 

It looked like something from a nightmare. Scott’s nightmare. 

Scott ran back in through the doors, not caring if anyone considered it ‘suspicious’. Panic was rearing through his mind. Images from the nightmare were flashing behind his eyes, the feeling of Allison’s blood underneath his nails, and he wanted to scream. He needed to find Allison, to know that she was okay. Getting out his phone, he sent a quick string of frantic texts, asking her where she was and if she was okay. Adrenaline was rushing through him, different to a lapse in control, and it made him feel even worse.

“She’s probably fine,” Stiles reasoned.

“She’s not answering my texts, Stiles,” he replied, growing frantic. The sounds of the hallways, the scent of everyone filling up the space as they got ready, was getting overwhelming, filling his overworked mind.

“It could just be a coincidence, alright?” Stiles continued, voicing an argument Scott had already worked through and dismissed. It sounded only slightly more logical coming from someone else. “A seriously amazing coincidence.”

“Just help me find her, okay?” Scott begged. Stiles nodded reassuringly and they continued down the hallway, looking at everyone around them to try and see Allison. With every wrong face Scott felt more and more helpless. “Do you see her?”

“No.”

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, not knowing what else to do but keep looking. The bell was going to ring any second, another too loud noise to join the cacophony he was already in, and then he would have to wait until the end of class to try and find her, unless Scott wanted people to grow suspicious of him being involved. It was beginning to seem like an acceptable option, the longer he spent looking. 

Turning the corner, Scott collapsed against the nearest locker, needing something to support himself. His head hit the metal door hard, hard enough to dent it, and his hands braced against the doors to either side. Scott could feel his eyes glowing, though thankfully his head was down low enough for no one to see, and tried to fight back for control. The panic flowing through him, coupled with the wolf inside him seeing a chance to be free, was making that very difficult. Taking a deep breath, he let out a small shout and punched the locker door, breaking it from its frame. Stiles wasn’t with him anymore and Scott couldn’t think clearly enough to remember where he had lost his friend. 

The minor display of aggression helped, but not enough, and he immediately felt guilty. 

Scott pulled away and walked backwards, staring at the damage he had already caused, worrying over anything else he might do if it continued. Something crashed into the back of him, startling him from his thoughts. 


	44. Pack Mentality Part Four

There was a thud as books fell to the floor, the person behind him that he had crashed into letting out a small cry of surprise, and Scott whirled around, terrified that he had hurt someone else as well. Allison, alive and okay and  _ alive _ , was facing him, her hair down and a smile on her face, if a little bashful.

“You scared the hell out of me,” she said, jokingly, and Scott wanted to cry from relief. He hadn’t hurt her, she was okay, she was okay, it had all been a badly timed, coincidental dream. 

“You’re okay,” he breathed out in shock. Scott wasn’t sure he had ever been this relieved in his entire life. He had definitely never been as scared, even including the night that Peter attacked him. 

“Once my heart starts beating again, yeah.”

Scott could understand that sentiment perfectly. They knelt down to pick up her books and Scott couldn’t stop staring. It was a mantra going through his head, replacing the panic and fear and worry,  _ she’s okay, she’s okay, she’s okay _ . There was a probably very stupid smile on his face and he was staring in a way that was probably starting to border on stalkerish but Scott was so relieved he couldn’t think beyond the mantra. 

“What?”

“I’m just happy to see you,” he replied. Definitely not a lie. One of the most honest things he had said in weeks. Before Allison could reply, there was a start up sound from the speaker system by the corner, meaning there was about to be some kind of announcement. Scott jumped in surprise a little bit, the frequency of the start up painfully high.

“Attention, students, this is your principal,” the speakers blared. “I know you’re all wondering about the incident that occurred last night to one of our buses. While the police work to determine what happened, classes will proceed as scheduled. Thank you.”

Groans echoed from all over the school as students heard the words they were hoping wouldn’t be said. Scott knew, if he wasn’t fully aware the attack wasn’t supernaturally related - even if he wasn’t quite sure how anymore, he would be feeling the same. Instead, he was thrilled that it would be life as normal for a little bit longer. He could pretend to be normal and pretend that his life wasn’t at risk and he could pretend that he was a normal teenager. 

“Save me a seat at lunch?” Allison asked, brushing some of the longer strands of hair from his eyes. He really needed to get it cut soon. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

Allison walked off to class, blissfully unaware of the emotional hell Scott had just been through over her safety, and he watched her go round the corner, wanting to make sure that she was still safe for just a little bit longer. There was a slight bounce to his step as he began to walk away, a lightness in himself, and that joy only increased when he saw the locker he had partially destroyed.

Standing in front of it, clearly trying to figure out what the hell had happened, was Jackson. The other boy was trying to put the door on in a way that would actually stick, growing more and more frustrated by the second. It wasn’t going to fit, anyone could see that, but he still tried. Scott had a hard time feeling too guilty about that little thing, especially remembering Jackson’s threats and overall actions towards him.

“What are you looking at, asswipe?” Jackson spat out. Very hard to feel too guilty. Scott looked away, walking off before he could be the victim of Jackson’s growing anger, like he had been a few too many times before. Chemistry was his first period and he was probably going to be very late to that lesson considering he was still on the wrong side of the school. 

  
  


<>

  
  


“You weren’t kidding about the pictures being brutal,” Alan sighed, studying the array of bloodied bus images in front of him. “And it was in the school parking lot all night?”

“All night. The driver dropped it off, went to grab his things from inside and then left. It’s his day off today so they haven’t had the chance to get hold of him yet, all of the officers are still inspecting the scene and keeping the kids away.”

“That’s if he wasn’t on the bus,” Alan muttered sadly. “We could easily spin this as a wild animal attack. Not a mountain lion, though, it fits a wolf’s hunting technique perfectly.”

“We don’t get wolves in California,” Laura reminded him with a smile. “Not the kind the police know about.”

“They used to be here and they’re possibly capable of coming back, and they won’t investigate past that,” he replied. “A wild animal attacked a school bus - they’re desperate for some sort of answer and we can give them something they are willing to believe.”

Laura sighed, leaning against the table. Being a born wolf meant growing up with a strange relationship with lying. On the one hand, their parents had of course wanted them to be truthful about important matters, to not become serial or compulsive liars. But they also had to lie about a lot of important aspects of their lives to almost everyone they knew. And they grew up in a house where most people could tell when they lied immediately. 

“So, we’re definitely going with wolf, then?”

“It fits their hunting pattern the best, yes. We don’t have to give a motive, we just have to explain how it possibly happened,” Alan reassured. Laura knew he didn’t like lying either. She wasn’t entirely sure what the druid approach to lying was, she and Marin knew each other well enough that lying never worked for particularly long, but she knew Alan hated it. 

“I hope Scott’s alright,” she said. “Knowing that Peter was that close to the school must be really freaking him out. “Marin said she might have a talk with him during one of his free periods today, if her schedule works out.”

“That should be good for him. I’m worried about Scott. If he’s struggling with something, he tends to keep it to himself, like he doesn’t want to burden other people with it all,” Alan explained, wringing his hands together. “I know he talks to Melissa, his mother, about some things but she doesn’t know about him being bitten yet so he can’t.”

“I’m still not sure how to help him do that.”

“Well, Melissa is a nurse, she went to school with your parents, and she’s at least passing friends with the sheriff, I’m sure she wouldn’t be too surprised by the existence of the supernatural,” Alan smiled. “We haven’t always been the most subtle. Hell, she was pretty decent friends with Natalie Martin, from what your mother told me.”

Laura twitched slightly, noticing how his heartbeat was speeding up a little bit, and smiled to herself. “You clearly know her better, how do you think we should go about doing it?”

“First of all, we shouldn’t do it with Peter and the hunters still being a considerable threat,” Alan began. “Any half-decent parent will freak out about that. We should be there to help explain some of the more complicated aspects since Scott will be, rightfully, focused on the emotional aspects of telling her. Maybe don’t start how we started with Scott.”

“You mean don’t make her pass out?” 

“Exactly,” Alan laughed. “Build up to it better.”

She couldn’t stop grinning at how much his heart had increased and Alan was looking very happy about the conversation despite the topic. Laura was beginning to have a few ideas about what he was getting him so excited.

“Do you talk to Melissa much?”

“She pops in every so often when Scott needs picking up when it gets too dark to cycle back,” Alan replied. “We normally talk when Scott is picking up his things. Is there a reason you’re asking so many questions?”

“You get all excited and happy when I mention Melissa and your heartbeat gets faster. I was wondering why.”


	45. Pack Mentality Part Five

Scott wasn’t sure what he was feeling anymore. 

It had been a difficult morning, he hadn’t been capable of paying attention during his first two periods, he had spent break wearing a hole in the floor of the library as he paced out his nerves. Now he was in chemistry class, trying to distract himself from the clear image of the attacked school bus through the window, and he was violently swinging between relieved and terrified. There was blood on the bus, it wasn’t Allison, but it had to be someone’s. Stiles was trying to help as they ignored Harris’ teaching. 

“Maybe it was my blood on the door,” he suggested hopefully, desperately. 

“Could have been animal blood,” Stiles added. “You know, maybe you caught a rabbit or something.”

“And did what?”

“Ate it.”

“Raw?” Scott asked in horror. Obviously it hadn’t made him sick, they weren’t even certain it had happened, but the idea of eating a rabbit, of eating any animal, raw was horrible.

“No, you stopped to bake it in a little werewolf oven. I don’t know, you’re the one who can’t remember anything.”

It didn’t make Scott feel any better. He had swung back to being terrified. Someone had been hurt. There was too much blood, too much destruction, for it to have been just a rabbit or something small like that. An image of the rabbit brought to the clinic for booster shots the week before flashed through his mind and Scott felt guilt rush through him again. He could have hurt someone’s pet; he had been destroyed when Roxy died, he knew what it was like to lose someone that important to you, even if they were ‘just a pet’.

“Mr Stilinski,” Harris said angrily. “If that’s your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull out your headphones every once in a while. I think you and Mr McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?”

“No.”

Harris gestured for the two of them to move. “Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much.”

Scott moved to the front desk, next to Stiles’ friend, and smiled awkwardly. There wasn’t a lot you can say when you’ve been moved for talking, but it felt wrong to not acknowledge her at all. The move also meant that Jackson was sitting directly behind him and Scott could feel his angry glare burning into his back. He didn’t have to sit there stewing with his own thoughts for too long.

“Hey, I think they found something.”

The class was up and moving before anyone had completely processed the words, desperate to catch a glimpse of anything interesting happening with the case. It wasn’t uncommon for a couple of people a year to be attacked by mountain lions, but they had never gone near the school before, it had never properly impacted them before. Scott was standing by the window, his heart pounding in his chest loud enough that he was surprised no one else could hear it.

There was an ambulance, the back doors opened, with paramedics rushing a stretcher towards it. Scott could smell the blood. It made him feel sick. Stiles was stood next to him, more interested in possibly catching sight of one of the police officers or his dad, and Scott turned to him.

“That’s not a rabbit.”

Lying on the stretcher, a blanket over the prone form, it was hard to catch sight of anything more illuminating than that. Then the figure seized, sitting up and shouting. His face and body were covered in blood, hands grasping at those closest to him, and there was a look of pure terror on his face. It was impossible but Scott felt like the man was staring directly at him. 

Everyone in the classroom exclaimed and backed away, the fear in the room palpable. 

Scott kept walking away, feeling like he was about to scream. The stress of worrying about if he had hurt someone, the stress of thinking that he was capable of hurting someone, maybe even killing someone, was driving him insane. The walls of the classroom felt too small, like they were closing in, and the smell of the chemicals in the room was burning his nose.

“Okay,” Stiles said, grabbing Scott’s shoulder to stop him from bolting. “This is good, this is good. He got up, he’s not dead. Dead guys can’t do that.”

“Stiles, I did that,” Scott replied in horror. 

“Hey, we don’t know that, yet.”

“I dreamt about it, I dreamt about attacking someone on the school bus the same night that someone gets attacked on a school bus,” Scott continued. The rest of the class were talking with each other with rapid hushed whispers, ignoring Harris’ calls for them to calm down. No one was paying them any attention. “Laura said they thought Peter had done something, but what if it was me, what if I was the monster?”

“You’re not a monster,” Stiles said firmly. He shut up as Harris gained control of the class. “Just keep breathing, keep doing your anchor thing, and we can talk about it at lunch.”

“Okay,” Scott said with confidence that he couldn’t feel. 

  
  


<>

  
  


Laura was just finishing up on a report, sitting in the office as Alan was giving a particularly cute cat a routine check-up. She could hear him talking to the owner, reassuring them that the cat was healthy and happy, and she could even hear the cat purring slightly when she really strained her ears. They had never had pets. When half of the kids in the house had super strength you tended to avoid things that were easily breakable and hard to replace. Cats and dogs fit under that category. 

Her phone buzzed, Marin’s picture lighting up the screen.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Marin replied, sounding stressed. “They’ve just pulled someone off of the bus.”

“Someone’s dead?”

“No, they jerked awake just in time for half of the student body to be scarred for life,” she sighed. “But it’s the bus driver. The school has been told so we can contact his family and the news will know within the hour.”

“Do they know if he’ll make it?”

“There was a lot of blood, Laur, we don’t know, but it didn’t look good.”

“Alright. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Wasn’t exactly a fun sight, but I’m okay, really. Oh, I’ve organised to talk to Scott last period, Harris will give him a note, hopefully subtly but I doubt it, telling him. It’s the standard procedure for when we’re concerned about a student.”

“Thanks. That should help him. Have you seen him today?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay, I’ll be home a little late but I should have dinner done by the time you get home. I love you.”

“I love you too, see you later.”

The cute cat and its owner had left by the time that the phone call ended, but Laura still waited a little bit to calm down. Her thoughts were swirling around in her hand at an alarming rate; someone had been hurt, probably by Peter, Scott was probably struggling, Marin was worryingly close to where Peter had probably attacked someone and they already knew that he had no problems with attacking family. And that wasn’t even taking into consideration the hunters and the Whittemore kid.

“Hey, everything alright?” Alan asked as he walked into his office, putting away his files meticulously. 

“They found the bus driver on the bus, he’s been taken to the hospital but apparently it doesn’t look good,” Laura sighed, putting down her report. “Which is definitely enough evidence for some hunters.”

“It can also still be a mountain lion or anything else,” he replied. “I’ll happily go on record and say that.”

“Which will just make hunters suspicious of you, especially since it isn’t exactly difficult to find out that Marin and I are married.”

“Druids care about balance above all.”

“Yeah, but hunters don’t care about anything like us. Actually, no, they do. They hate anything like us.”


	46. Pack Mentality Part Six

Scott had been very surprised, and just a little bit scared, when Harris slipped him a note saying that he had a meeting with a guidance counsellor. He didn’t need to look, though he did, he studied everything about the note, to know that it would be with Mrs Morrell. Scott wasn’t sure if Harris had set him up for the appointment, he had been very freaked out when they saw the body get taken onto the ambulance, or if Morrell herself wanted to talk to him about it. All he knew was that with everything pent up inside of him, the second anyone asked him about it, Scott would let it all fall out in whatever disjointed order his brain would settle on.

They made it to lunch, students milling around and finding their seats, before it got too busy. With quiet voices, they were continuing their conversation about whether or not Scott had brutally attacked someone last night on the bus. Scott wasn’t feeling too optimistic about his options, still remembering the feeling of tearing into someone, still remembering the smell of blood in the air. 

“But dreams aren’t memories,” Stiles insisted. 

“Then it wasn’t a dream,” Scott replied. “Something happened last night, and I can’t remember what. Now, someone has been attacked and I probably did it.”

They sat down at an empty table, Scott making sure to put his bag in the seat next to his for Allison, not even sure she would want to sit with him given how strange he had been acting. Stiles was sat opposite, and they left plenty of seats open. If you took up too much room on tables at the start of lunch, people tended to get very angry at you and that wasn’t something Scott was in the mood for dealing with.

“What makes you so sure that it couldn’t have been Peter, or literally anything else?”

“Because I did something.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t not know it.”

Stiles sighed. “You’ve got that appointment with Morrell haven’t you? She’s a teacher, they probably know everything that’s going on with it. Just talk to her about it and then you’ll know.”

“But what if I have hurt someone? What if I’m like Peter? They won’t want to help me if I’ve done that.”

“We don’t know that,” Stiles reminded him but Scott was already lost in that trail of thought. 

“I can’t go out with Allison, I’m gonna have to cancel.”

“No, you’re not cancelling, okay? You can’t just cancel your entire life. You wanted a normal life, and we’ll manage it. I’m just a little disappointed you didn’t dream about hanging out with me.”

“I also didn’t dream about killing you,” Scott replied, half meaning the joke. 

“Yeah, that’s a good point. But don’t worry about it, Scotty, we’ll figure it out.”

Scott could hear approaching footsteps and assumed it was Allison, catching scent of her somewhere in the room, and was very surprised when Lydia Martin put her tray down at their table and sat next to Scott. Allison came up from the other side, looking a little less confident about the whole thing, but it was hard to be as confident as Lydia.

“Figure what out?” Lydia asked. Stiles took in a deep breath, clearly incapable of achieving verbal words for a short while.

“Just, uh, homework,” Scott managed to say. He looked at Stiles imploringly to play along and in his panic and crush controlled mind, the other boy managed it.

“Why is she sitting with us?” Stiles asked him quietly, leaning over the table as other people joined them. Scott could only shrug. He pulled his bag aside for Allison to sit down.

“Thanks.”

The table was almost completely full of people and Scott didn’t think he’d ever been in a situation like that. The closest he had been was the first day of freshmen year when everyone in his maths class, the lesson before lunch, had sat together out of fear of being alone. Literally the very next day, they had their own groups to sit with and Scott was with Stiles. Jackson approached, going over to the seat that Ryan was in at the top of the table. Scott was pretty sure he could guess what was about to happen but that didn’t mean he liked it.

“Get up,” the other boy demanded.

“How come you never ask Danny to get up?” Ryan protested. Danny scoffed.

“Because I don’t stare at his girlfriend’s coin slot,” he said, half-jokingly. Ryan could be a little bit of a creep sometimes. “So, I hear they’re saying it’s some type of animal attack. Probably a cougar.”

Of all the topics of conversation they could have chosen, that was the last one Scott wanted. They could have all ganged up and started to insult him and Scott would have chosen that over the attacked school bus. But changing the topic, just at the beginning of conversation, would be weirder than not joining in so he decided to stay quiet.

“I heard mountain lion,” Jackson added.

“A cougar is a mountain lion,” Lydia corrected him. Jackson gave her a strange look and Scott heard her heartbeat quicken. “Isn’t it?”

“Who cares? The guy’s probably some homeless tweaker who’s gonna die anyway.”

Stiles was checking something on his phone and interrupted them. “Actually, I just found out who it is. Check it out.”

On the small screen and through the tinny speakers, the news played for them and they stuck their heads together to get a clearer shot. A reporter was reading out information:

“The Sheriff’s Department won’t speculate on details of the incident but confirmed the victim, Garrison Meyers, did survive the attack. Meyers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical condition.”

Images of the bloodied bus only worsened the memories of the night before and when Scott felt recognition at the picture of the victim, it only got worse. 

“I know this guy.”

“You do?” Allison asked, sounding confused. 

“Yeah, when I used to take the bus, back when I lived with my dad. He was the driver.”

Those were also very unpleasant memories. His mum kicked him out when he was little and Scott only stayed with him for a month until he dropped out of Scott’s life completely. What little memories he did have all included the man in at least some semblance of an alcoholic haze and so much shouting it made his ears hurt even now, years later. 

“Can we talk about something slightly more fun, please?” Lydia asked and Scott couldn’t agree more. “Like, oh, where are we going tonight? You said you and Scott were hanging out tonight, didn’t you?”

Both Scott and Allison looked at her confused before Allison took over. “Um, we were thinking of what we were gonna do.”

“Well,” Lydia said. “I am not sitting home again watching lacrosse videos, so if the four of us are hanging out, we are doing something fun.”

Stiles shot him a panicked look that reflected what Scott was feeling personally. Hanging out with Allison would be fun, hanging out with Lydia would be bearable, more so if it involved her and Allison getting closer, but any activity with Jackson would be terrible. Combining that with Scott’s fear of losing control and attacking Allison, now having some understanding of what it would feel like just to make the fear more real, and it would be an awful, terror-filled evening.

“Like the four of us?” Scott clarified, looking over to Allison. “Do you wanna hang out, like us and them?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Allison replied, not looking at all sure of herself or her words. “Sounds fun.”

“You know what else sounds fun?” Jackson asked. “Stabbing myself in the face with this fork.”

Scott also wasn’t looking forward to it, but he wasn’t that upset about it and could admit that Jackson was being a bit over dramatic. Although those words could really describe almost everything that Jackson did and said. Scott heard the words ‘Where are you getting your juice?’ playing in his head. 

“How about bowling?” Lydia suggested earnestly. “You love to bowl.”

“Yeah, with actual competition.”

“How do you know we’re not actual competition?” Allison asked. Scott was grateful she used a plural there to include him, but he knew for a fact that he was not actual competition. Even with werewolf abilities he doubted he would be very good at it. “You can bowl, right?”

“Sort of.”

“Is it sort of, or yes?” Jackson challenged and Scott felt familiar anger rising up inside of him. It was a mix of losing just a bit of control, a breaking point of his stress about the attack, and something childish within him glad that he could finally stand up to Jackson about something.

“Yes,” Scott replied before he could think it through too much. “I’m a great bowler.”


	47. Pack Mentality Part Seven

“You’re a terrible bowler,” Stiles lamented as they walked down the stairs, finally out of earshot from the others. Scott had been waiting for him to say it all lunchtime and knew he deserved it. He was a terrible bowler. The last time he had been bowling, he was eight and the action of swinging a heavier ball than he should have had, goaded into it by, if he remembered rightly, Jackson himself, had triggered a bad asthma attack. 

“I know, I’m such an idiot,” he agreed.

“God, it was like watching a car wreck,” Stiles continued and that comment hurt a little bit. Scott brushed it off. “I mean, first it turned into that group thing and with those three it can only end badly. Jackson’s clearly not over Lydia, Allison is definitely into Lydia, and Lydia is single and apparently completely oblivious to the both of them.”

They continued to walk through the hallways, their voices a little louder than Scott would have preferred under normal situations. Stiles had chemistry last period and Scott had his meeting with Mrs Morrell to get to soon, but the two classrooms were somewhat in the same direction. And they wouldn’t see each other after school, Scott had work and rode his bike to school. 

“How is this happening?” Scott asked. “I either killed a guy or I didn’t and instead I’m worrying about going bowling with a group of people, two out of the three of them don’t even like me.”

“I don’t think Danny likes me very much,” Stiles said, apparently not hearing Scott anymore.

“I ask to hang out with Allison and then I have a dream about murdering her.”

“Am I not attractive to gay guys?”

“I make first line and the team captain wants to destroy me, and now… Now I’m late to being found out as a murderer.”

Scott started rushing over to the guidance counsellor offices, on the opposite side of the school, and he could hear Stiles shouting after him.

“Wait, Scott, you didn’t … Am I attractive to gay guys?”

  
  


<>

  
  


Laura leant back in her chair, laptop still open on the desk, and exhaled slowly. It had been a difficult day. There was the attack, there was dealing with the police questions, there was all of the paperwork involved in being assigned a new case, and there was a nagging thought in the back of her head that there was something about the victim she knew. The name, at least, sounded familiar to her, but she wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t been a bus driver when Laura was at high school, she hadn’t even gotten the bus in high school, but there was still something about the name that was triggering a memory.

Most of the office had cleared out by that point, it was getting close to the end of the day, but Laura was still going over the files. Spread out on her desk were the papers from the last few cult cases and any other animal attacks over the past few years. None of that was to do with her work, at least not officially, but Laura was hoping it would help her to make some sense of what was going on. 

Her phone rang.

“Hey, Der, how you holding up?”

“I’m alright, I heard about the bus driver,” he replied. “The name sounds familiar, do you know why?”

“Not yet, no. When someone is attacked by an animal, the police tend to have pretty clear means, motive and opportunity so they don’t tend to look into the victim’s history. Are you staying in?”

“Yeah, for a little while. I might go for a bit of a drive, just to make sure it’s still in working condition and stuff,” Derek said. 

“Marin and I are having dinner with Alan this week, Friday night, and you’re more than welcome to join us. It’ll be good for you to interact with people.”

“I’ll think about it.”

That was as close as Derek got to being excited about things since the fire. Laura took it as a win, even if he chose not to come. Getting excited about something was a big step. And it would be good for him to talk to people more often. The line was quiet for a few moments and Laura wondered if he cut off the call without saying goodbye.

“I was thinking,” Derek began and Laura was relieved. “I was thinking about the fire.”

Nevermind. 

“Anything in specific?” she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral. She hadn’t been home when it happened, she’d been at university and as traumatic as finding out her family was dead without any context, her eyes turning red randomly one day, being pulled out of class to be told was a whole different problem. With the mess Kate Argent made of his head, and the incident with Paige the year before, Laura wasn’t surprised he had a lot to think about.

“Just how it all happened. You know, Peter saw it. He was there. He watched them all burn. I was just wondering what that would be like.”

“I’m assuming you mean in terms of sympathy for him, not that you want to know what it’s like to burn alive with your family.”

“Of course,” Derek said but Laura wasn’t certain how obvious it was. His anchor was anger, after all, and he was prone to being a little self-destructive. “I just, with the coma and everything else, why has he decided to attack us?”

“I don’t know, okay, but if he won’t talk to us, then he’s not leaving us a lot of options.”

“That doesn’t mean that we forgive him, though, right?”

“No, he’s brutally attacking people in the middle of the night and biting random teenagers. There’s not a lot you can do to excuse that.”

“And he attacked  _ you _ .”

Laura smiled at the emotion in his voice, glad that he still had some sort of moral focus. Peter could be very manipulative and Derek was in the state of mind where he was particularly susceptible to it, more than he had been before. And Peter had a lot of power over him, being involved in the Paige incident. 

“Thanks. Just try to keep your head down, the town’s pretty on edge, and we’ll be okay. Marin’s talking to Scott about the attack in a little bit and then Alan and I will help this evening.”

“Got it all figured out, huh?”

“God, I wish. No, but we’ve got something to work with. I was thinking of teaching him how to take pain. Alan said he’s pretty empathetic, I can’t imagine it will be too much of a difficulty, and he works at the clinic so he’ll find it useful, with any luck.”

They talked for a little more before they stopped the call, Laura reminding him to look after himself. She glanced over the files one more time, not finding anything new, and began packing them into her bag. It was the end of her working day, she didn’t have to go to court tomorrow and that meant she had no details to confirm or clients to deal with. All she wanted to do was head home for a while and have dinner with her wife. 


	48. Pack Mentality Part Eight

Scott wasn’t really sure what to expect from a counselling appointment.

All he really knew from it was you were supposed to talk about problems. He didn’t know where to start with his problems. Was he supposed to start with his werewolf problems? Was he supposed to start at the very beginning, like his dad drinking? Could he talk about his worries about bowling or was that considered too unimportant? Scott also wasn’t sure how to start the appointment. He didn’t know if he should knock and go in or wait for Morrell to open the door. That part was decided for him.

Morrell was walking over to him quickly, smiling in apology, and unlocked the door he was in front of. “Sorry I’m a little late, the staff room meeting overran slightly.”

The office looked like how he expected it to look. There was a desk with a collection of folders and a filing cabinet in the corner. Various posters about mental health and self-help covered the walls as well as times for the various clubs and meetings the school held. Scott knew Stiles went to the curriculum support ones for his ADHD with a few other kids he knew but there wasn’t much else he knew about it. Stiles didn’t like to talk about them, becoming a little self-conscious about it all. 

“Right, Scott, normally when we start counselling sessions, we have a few things to cover. First of all, do you know much about what counselling involves?”

“Not really,” he admitted bashfully. Morrell didn’t look surprised, or disappointed. Her face was fairly neutral and Scott was relieved about that. She was about to be pretty shocked when he finally confessed. 

“The main purpose of counselling is to give you tools for coping with problems that you might have. In terms of being a werewolf, it will probably be slightly different advice to most people but the point still stands. Anything said in here will be confidential, unless you are at risk in which case I will have to tell another adult. Since you don’t want your mother knowing about you being a werewolf, would you prefer that I tell Alan?”’

“Uh, yes, please.”

“Okay. Now I can understand that the attack on the school bus last night must be quite difficult to process,” Morrell began and Scott felt guilt well up inside him again. It seemed like she was about to tell him about Peter and Scott couldn’t listen to that knowing the truth about it all.

“I think I did it,” he blurted out, not caring about the consequences anymore. Morrell looked shocked, her heartbeat increasing. “Last night, I had a dream where I attacked Allison on the school bus and it felt so real, like I was really there, and then I came into school today and I saw the bus, and I knew the driver, and I think I did it. Not Peter, me. I hurt that guy, I’m why he’s in hospital.”

“Scott, take a deep breath for me,” she interrupted. “Take a deep breath and when you’re feeling calmer, we’ll talk it through.”

“But I hurt someone, I remember doing it, I remember enjoying it and-”

His breath was coming in short bursts and the lack of oxygen was beginning to make him feel dizzy, darkness clouding the edge of his vision. Dimly he was aware of Morrell growing more worried about him but he couldn’t concentrate on it. Scott began curling up into himself, not sure how else to cope with all of the anxiety filling him. 

“Scott, I need you to take a breath. Just one breath and then another. That’s all you have to do. You’re not in trouble for anything and you aren’t responsible for anything that happened last night. It’s just one breath, that’s all you have to do.”

Gradually Scott began to feel calmer, his breaths not long or deep but they were more regular and that was a start. His head felt better, not as clouded, and he could think clearer. Morrell was sitting in front of him, in front of the desk, watching him carefully. Her face was as neutral as before but he could sense her concern. Eventually he uncurled himself and managed to sit upright on the chair again.

“There you go,” she encouraged. “You’re doing a lot better.”

“I hurt someone,” he said weakly, tears springing to his eyes. “I hurt someone.”

“Scott, do you remember when you first met Laura? You had been called into the woods by Peter in your sleep. You didn’t have any control over what you were doing, it was Peter doing it all. Even if you were there, it was Peter controlling you.”

“But I still hurt someone,” Scott insisted.

“We don’t know that yet. If you’re feeling better, I need you to do something. Can you think back to your nightmare? About what happened?”

Blood and screams flashed in his mind at her words but Scott did his best to follow. If it proved anything he was willing to try, even if it left him feeling scared and shaky. He could power through it. It all felt incredibly strange, like the dream was no longer his. 

“Can you picture it?”

“Yeah, I-I can.”

“Good. You see Allison, don’t you?”

Scott focused on his memories. It was like he was seeing two different things. In one moment, he saw Allison, begging for her life, in another he saw the bus driver, crying out in pain, slashes in his chest. The sensation was disorienting and it made him feel dizzy, even more than when he was freaking out before. He felt physically sick.

“I see Allison and the bus driver at the same time, I don’t get it,” he admitted. “There’s blood, there’s so much blood.”

“If you can keep going, try and scent whose blood it is.”

He tried to remember what was happening in the dream, if he knew whose blood it was. At the time it had been so obviously Allison’s but with the bus driver’s face burning into the back of his mind, it was less clear. All of a sudden he felt a pain in his chest, like it had been gouged open. Scott cried out, grabbing at his shirt.

“Scott, look at me,” Morrell told him and he opened his eyes immediately, seeing the concern in her eyes. “Are you hurt?”

“I was hurt last night, I think, the blood, I think the blood was mine, some of it anyway,” he gasped, still clutching at his shirt. “Something hurt me.”

“Do you think the bus driver was capable of that?” she prompted. Scott shook his head. “Then that means there was someone else there. And the only other person that could have been there is Peter. Like when he called you into the woods.”

“Why would Peter want me there when he killed someone?”

“You don’t want to kill. If he makes you kill, then you’re aligned with him.”

“Because ripping someone’s throat out is such a bonding experience,” he said in disbelief. Morrell laughed slightly. 

“For a person like Peter, it is.”

“I still don’t understand,” Scott sighed. “Did I hurt someone?”

“I won’t be able to tell you for certain, you’ll need Laura’s help for that, but it seems pretty unlikely since you were hurt as well. But, and this is very important Scott, you aren’t to blame for whatever Peter might make you do. They aren’t your actions, they’re his.”

Scott stared down at his hands. It was a lot to take in. He knew he didn’t hurt Allison, he had known that since before first period, but to rationalise himself with the idea that he didn’t hurt the bus driver, that he was the one trying to help the man, was difficult. And knowing that his memories could be altered and manipulated by the monster that attacked him was another problem entirely.

“I don’t want to hurt someone,” he whispered. “I don’t want to be a monster.”

“You’re not a monster, Scott. Bad people don’t care about being better, and monsters don’t care about hurting people.”

He could understand the logic in those words but it was difficult to believe. It had felt like he wanted to hurt someone, like he wanted to cause people pain. He had had those thoughts, those urges and wants, and they had been inside his head, like they were his own. It had felt so wrong at the time, so alien, but they were in his head like they were his own.

“There are a lot of thoughts that you have to process and I don’t want you to feel like you have to work through it all in just this session,” Morrell told him, “But we still have about half an hour before the end of the school day if you feel up to it.”

“I’m not sure what else to talk about,” Scott admitted. “I was just worried about the idea of having hurt someone. Now I know that I probably didn’t do it, I think I’m okay.”

“You were turned into a werewolf less than a month ago, I’m sure you can understand why I maybe don’t believe that. But if you don’t feel ready to talk about it, we can talk about something else. Are there any problems you’re having socially?”

Scott thought about the bowling he had agreed to and how he really wasn’t looking forward to it. That was probably a little too stupid for him to talk about. Counselling was for serious problems, not his concerns about making a fool of himself in front of Allison, Lydia and Jackson. Morrell was watching him carefully, waiting for his answer. He sighed. They still had half an hour and it would do him good to talk about something, even something that pathetic.

“I’m going out with Allison, Lydia and Jackson tonight, after work. We’re going bowling,” he began nervously, feeling uncomfortable even as he said the words. Morrell didn’t seem judgemental about it. “And I told them I’m good at bowling because Jackson was saying that he thought I wasn’t. And I’m really not. I haven’t bowled since I was eight. And I was very bad then.”

“Well, that can certainly make you feel anxious,” she replied. “What are you scared of happening, if you don’t do well tonight?”

“That I’ll look stupid. And I’ll have to deal with Jackson being even more irritating than he normally is because I’ll prove him right.”

“How much do you think you should care about their opinions? Would you go to any of them for advice?”

“I’d ask Allison,” he replied. “Maybe not Lydia and definitely not Jackson.”

“And do you think Allison will think that you’ll look stupid if you don’t do well?”

“Maybe a little, but I don’t think she would make fun of me, or anything like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's the point of having a counsellor who knows about the supernatural if you never let her help the heavily traumatised teenagers?


	49. Pack Mentality Part Nine

Scott cycled rapidly to the clinic, lacrosse stick hitting the small of his back with every movement, and jumped off the second he got to the door. After his counselling session with Morrell, which had gone a lot better than he had expected, although he had been expecting being accused of murder, he and Stiles had met up to talk and before he knew it, Scott was running late. He hated being late; he always worried it would make the person waiting for him feel unimportant and he definitely didn’t want Deaton to think that. 

Stumbling through the hallway, bag still slung over his shoulder, he burst into the operating room. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he said. 

“You’re all of two minutes late,” Deaton reminded him kindly. 

“I just don’t want you to think I’m slacking.”

“Scott, I guarantee you, you’re one of the least slacking kids in this town,” he reassured, putting down one of the boxes he was sorting.

Taking one of the other boxes, there had been a delivery at lunchtime, he remembered seeing it on the timetable a few days ago, Scott heard the sound of someone approaching. With them there was the undeniable smell of a dog so he didn’t think much of it until he turned around and saw the sheriff. Even being best friends with his son, possibly because he was best friends with his son, Scott had always been a little bit nervous with the sheriff. It was the irrational fear that everyone had, like they would be accused of something despite being totally innocent, but Scott didn’t feel as innocent about things as he once did.

The sheriff came in, a police dog with a bandage wrapped tightly around its foreleg accompanying him, and his stern demeanour changed into a kind smile.

“Hey, I see somebody’s ready to get their stitches out,” Deaton said, approaching the dog immediately. He was far more relaxed than Scott could even fathom being as he lifted the dog onto the table. 

“Hey there, Scott, you staying out of trouble?” the sheriff asked. Scott had to remind himself that the sheriff didn’t know he was out the night of the attack, that it was just Stiles, and that probably put him in the man’s good books. He hoped. The question didn’t put him in the right frame of mind.

“Yeah.” 

Before Deaton could properly examine the dog, the sheriff began talking. “While I’m here, do you mind taking a look at those pictures I was telling you about? Sacramento still can’t determine an animal.”

An envelope was in his outstretched hand, an official police evidence envelope, Scott recognised it from the ones that Stiles had ‘borrowed’ on occasion when he was interested in a case. Deaton took it almost warily and brought out the pictures.

“I’m not exactly an expert,” he reminded the sheriff. “This is the guy who was attacked in the bus?”

Scott’s heartbeat shot up. 

Based on his talk with Morrell at the beginning of the session, and his explicitly asking her not to, he knew that Deaton and Laura didn’t quite understand his involvement in the attack yet. Even knowing that he was innocent in some regard, he hadn’t attacked the man though he had been there when it happened, still put him on high alert for anything to do with it. Scott kept his back turned to them, trying to get his emotions back under control before anyone noticed that he was acting strange.

“Yeah, oh, and we found wolf hairs in the blood on the preserve. Your sister’s wife owns that area, doesn’t she?”

“Half sister,” Deaton corrected almost on reflex. Scott didn’t think that Deaton and Morrell had a bad relationship with each other, they met up often enough to dispel any notions of that, but he did know the relationship they had was somewhat strained. He had mentioned missing his dad, who had died when he was very young, a couple of times and no matter how good of a step parent you might have, it would never be the same. “But, yes, their family own the land.”

“A wolf?” Scott asked before even realising it. Not standing in the back like he had been planning on doing. Deaton and the sheriff turned to look at him in surprise. “I mean, I think I read somewhere that wolves haven’t been in California for, like, sixty years.”

Scott didn’t think mentioning to the sheriff that Stiles had been researching wolves would put his friend in a good position. He was already still in hot water for going out on the night of the attack. Deaton nodded at him, confirming the fact.

“True enough, but wolves are highly migratory. They could have wandered in from another state driven by impulse or strong enough memory.”

“Wolves have memories?”

“Longer-term memories, yes. If associated with a primal drive,” he explained, before turning his attention back to the sheriff who was waiting for them to finish. “See this one here?”

“Yeah,” the sheriff replied, looking at the brutal looking wound on the man’s face. 

“Those are claw marks. A wolf would have gone for the throat or the spinal cord with its teeth.”

Scott could remember having the impulse, even if it was a memory of Peter’s, mutated and implanted into him, of wanting to do that to Allison. It was unsettling, to say the least. 

“So what do you think, it’s a mountain lion?”

“I don’t know. A wolf could chase down its prey, hobbling it by tearing at the ankles,” he continued and Scott remembered doing that in his nightmare as well, could remember her pained and terrified screams. “And then the throat.”

With that, the sheriff thanked him, taking back the envelope, and they continued on with the actual appointment. The stitches had healed perfectly, there would hardly be a scar on the dog’s leg, and it would be back to active duty within the next two weeks. Scott didn’t like the use of police dogs. It was cruel to dogs to force them to work in dangerous conditions and, as evidenced in front of him, they got injured. Service dogs were different, obviously, because they had the same risks of being injured as an ordinary pet would do and they were still helpful. 

“Are you alright, Scott?” Deaton asked when the sheriff left. “I’m aware being at school so soon after an attack couldn’t have been pleasant.”

“I’m okay.”

  
  


<>

  
  


Laura grinned into the crook of Marin’s neck, pressing another kiss there, before pulling away. They’d been kissing on the sofa for about an hour but it was getting close for her to need to leave, if she wanted to get to her session with Scott on time. Marin smoothed down her messed up hair, hand going to cup her cheek with her thumb stroking at the skin. She grinned even wider. 

“You have to go,” Marin reminded her. Laura groaned.

“I know, I know,” she replied, standing up from the sofa and pulling her wife up to meet her. “But that was a lot of fun. A  _ lot _ of fun.”

“And it will still be fun in a couple of hours when you get back. Go and be an adult for a bit and then we can go back to being teenagers.”

“Oh, that was more fun than when we were teenagers,” Laura replied. “Because we still make out but now I get to call you my wife.”

Marin laughed, and Laura melted at the sound, before playfully pushing her away and sitting back down on the sofa. With one last kiss to her forehead, she went off to the door, tying up her shoes and putting on her coat. She did a quick run down her checklist of everything she needed before grabbing her car keys.

“I’ll text you when I’m on my way back, okay?”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she said, rushing over to steal one last kiss, and then walked out of the door.


	50. Pack Mentality Part Ten

Once the sheriff had left, police dog in tow, it was a fairly quiet night. Scott was glad for it. He had a lot to think over. After talking about his concerns for bowling with the others, which had actually made him feel a lot better about it all, they had talked over how he would bring up the conversation, how he would word it. It didn’t stop him being nervous about it all. Most of his tasks revolved around reshelving and taking stock of what they had which Scott could do in his sleep at this point. The repetitive actions calmed his mind, anyway. 

“Scott, I think I need a hand in here,” Deaton called. He didn’t sound worried but when there was an owner in the room he never sounded worried. A lot of animals could smell fear and even if they couldn’t, they could tell when their owners were stressed.

Scott went back into the room to see a familiar cat, heavily pregnant, and her owner looking very stressed. 

“We’ve got some kittens coming, could you get the blankets from the cupboard?”

He immediately went over. There was often not a lot to worry about when cats gave birth. In general the advice was to just stay with them, because if you left the room they would follow you and that wasn’t good. Scott knew the pregnant cat very well, knew exactly how to scratch behind its ear to get it to calm down enough for injections, knew when she was about to playfully bite him and when he should pull away. Over the past couple of months, since they had learnt that she was pregnant, he’d seen her a lot more. 

“It’s alright, Marigold,” Deaton was whispering, stroking the cat. Her owner, an elderly woman named Susan who always gave out the best treats on Halloween and whose daughter held the record for getting closest to expulsion on Hell Night, was also comforting her. 

Scott laid out the blankets in preparation. There were four kittens, an average sized litter, and he had a blanket for each of them. Cats didn’t need to go to the vets when they went into labour, unless there was a known problem or something was obviously going wrong, but he knew if the cat was in labour at the clinic that Deaton wouldn’t even think of sending them away. Marigold, a cat who usually shouted, literally shouted, for attention, had gone very quiet. 

“She’s already quite far along,” Deaton was explaining, “It’s probably why she was so easy to get into the carrier today, as opposed to all of the other trips.”

“Well, I’m glad we’re here,” Susan replied. “I trust you and Scott a lot more than I trust my own hands. They shake, you see, and I doubt Marigold here wants me to drop her babies. Lizzie dropped her once years ago and she’s still not over it. Petty grudges.”

“I once said Stiles’ snake had creepy eyes and it never forgave me,” Scott said, remembering the corn snake's evil glare whenever they shared the same room. He was convinced that if Stiles hadn’t been there to mediate, he would have been bitten. “Pets are smarter than most people give them credit for.”

Within half an hour there were three kittens wrapped up carefully in blankets, and they were waiting for the fourth coming down. Scott was keeping an eye on the babies, all of them looking healthy. Their eyes were closed, and would remain so for a few weeks, and they were still covered in blood and other fluids but that was to be expected. With his enhanced senses, Scott found the smell to be a little disconcerting but he powered through it. They were nearly at the end and Marigold was looking okay. 

“Here’s the last one,” Deaton announced, handing over the kitten to Scott who wrapped it up. They placed the little bundles next to Marigold who was already chirping again, licking their heads clean. “If you choose not to keep them all, I can put some flyers up to advertise to adopters.”

“Thank you, Dr Deaton,” Susan replied. “I think I’ll see how we do. I’m keeping at least one of them and Lizzie’s been thinking of adopting. We’ll see how we do. Oh, and thank you, Scott. You’re always so sweet when Marigold comes in.”

“No problem, Mrs Jones, just glad to help.”

When Mrs Jones, Marigold and the new kittens had been carefully packed away into their carrier, Scott offering to carry it for her as she carried some of the pads and things they kept at the clinic for the babies, he went back to doing the storage work. Deaton was cleaning up the room, like he had to do after every patient, and Scott knew he had half an hour before Laura would show up for his session. He would definitely prefer to have talked it over with Deaton before that happened.

“Are you alright, Scott?” Deaton asked, coming into the storeroom. “You’ve been pretty quiet tonight.”

“It’s the, um, the thing with the bus being attacked,” he began nervously, scratching at the back of his neck. “I talked about it with Mrs Morrell, earlier, during our session.”

“Did it go well?”

“Uh, yeah, actually, it really helped. But, uh, the attack on the bus last night. I-I was there. I had a dream where I was attacking Allison and she’s fine, it was the driver that got hurt, but Peter, he called me there. I think he cut my chest as well but it healed before I woke up.”

Deaton was by his side immediately, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder and guiding him to the wall, lowering him carefully. Scott was glad he did, feeling like his legs were about to give out from beneath him, and he leaned his head back, the cold wall helping somewhat. After a few deep breaths, he felt ready to start talking again.

“I just, I felt like I had done it, and Morrell said it was unlikely that I did and even if I did it was Peter controlling me like when he called me into the woods but I still feel so guilty, someone’s in hospital, and … I don’t want to hurt people,” he finished. It kept coming back to that.

Whenever the idea circled back to the front of his mind, because it had never truly left, he thought back on the night that Peter bit him, of the monster he saw in the woods, and felt a bolt of fear going through him at the idea of becoming anything like that. He didn’t want to do that to anyone. 

“You won’t, Scott,” Deaton told him, kneeling in front of him. “It’s okay to be scared, this is probably going to be the most difficult few months for you in your entire life, you’re allowed to struggle with it all. Especially with what Peter is doing to you.”

Scott looked back up to him. 

He’d known Deaton most of his life, from when him and his mum had first found Roxy on the side of the road, all starved and abused, from all of her check-ups, when she had died, and then when he’d started work. Stiles had joked, even before his dad had left, that Deaton was becoming like a parent to him. With everything else going to hell, Scott was feeling it a lot more than he used to. Deaton pulled him into a tight hug and Scott allowed himself to feel small and scared for a few moments. 

“You’re going to be okay, Scott,” he continued. “You’ve got me, you’ve got Laura and Stiles and you’ve got your mum. This will all balance out, I promise you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s just the way that life works. Some of it’s really bad, some of it’s really good, but it all has to balance out eventually. We’ve just got to get through the difficult part.”

There was the sound of a car approaching and Scott could smell Laura as she walked in through the door. The sign said closed but they normally kept it unlocked just in case there was an emergency. 

“You know, I have an idea for what you can learn today, if you feel up to it. It might help you feel a little less scared about it all.”


	51. Pack Mentality Part Eleven

Laura could sense in the clinic that there was a lot of emotion running high as soon as she walked in. It was an unmistakable scent, Laura had lived with Derek directly after the fire for years, and it put her on high alert. She could hear voices deeper inside the building, Scott and Alan’s, and walked over to them. There was also the normal scents of animals, medicine and disinfectant. The clinic always smelled so strongly of disinfectant, which, she supposed, was a good thing. 

“Hey, are you two back there?” she called out, keeping her voice calm. If Scott was freaking out about something, she didn’t want to make him feel any worse, especially since he probably already knew she was there. 

“Storeroom!” Alan called back, also sounding calm. That was a good sign. 

She walked round to the storeroom, the scent of emotional distress getting stronger with each step. It was definitely Scott’s, Laura could hear his shaking breaths and racing heart, and she worried about how the attack on the bus driver was affecting him. Marin had said their talk had gone well, she wouldn’t say anymore and Laura knew better than to push, so it was slightly alarming to have him being this freaked out. 

Scott was sat on the floor, back pressed against the wall, and looking as though he had just cried a little bit. Her heart broke for him. It had obviously been an incredibly trying day, Laura doubted he would have just broken down whilst at work if it hadn’t been difficult, but she wasn’t really sure what to say to him to help, especially if he’d already spoken to Alan and Marin about his problems. 

“Hi,” Scott greeted quietly, looking up to bashfully meet her eye. She smiled at him kindly. “I got a bit overwhelmed.”

“That’s alright,” she replied. She sat down next to Alan. “Are you feeling any better now?”

“Yeah. Like Deaton said, it’ll all balance out. And we delivered kittens earlier, so that’s cool.”

“Kittens?” Laura asked excitedly. “Aw, that’s so cute. Were they small?”

“Tiny. I could probably fit about two in my hand at once.”

The three of them moved back into the main room, smelling very intensely like disinfectant, almost entirely masking the scent of newborns Laura could pick up on, and Alan led Scott over to the main table where there were a few books he had found. Laura recognised them from when she was a kid, things her grandparents liked to read, and knew most of the information in there had passed down to her gradually from her parents or aunts and uncles. It must be a lot for Scott to take in. 

She went with Alan to the back, in a room labelled ‘Cats’, and cooed over them as he did the evening meals. One of them had a little green marker on its cage door as opposed to the ones with blue or red or no markers and Alan lifted it carefully into his arms. The little animal mewed pathetically as it was taken but it didn’t move, smelling strongly of cancer. Laura stroked over its head, already feeling some of the pain coming through from just a little touch, the veins on her hand and forearm turning dark.

“This is Oreo, she’s on a lot of pain medication whilst we do her treatment for this week,” Alan explained, his touch gentle as he comforted the cat. “She’s got another dose due around now, before she eats, so I thought we could teach Scott how to take pain. He’s pretty freaked out right now, worrying about possibly hurting someone, so it might help him to see that he can do good as well. Does he know anything about it?”

“I took some of his pain from the full moon, when he was struggling with his shift, so he knows about it,” Laura replied quietly, not wanting Scott to hear them. “Is this thing with Peter really scaring him this much, or is it something else as well? Is the Whittemore kid giving him a hard time?”

“Scott’s not mentioned anything about other students. But the attack last night, Peter called Scott out to the school, like the morning you found him. Tried to force him to attack the driver, made him think it was Allison in his dream.”

“That would mess anyone up,” Laura sighed. “Poor kid. He figures one thing out and the world decides to give him about fifty more problems. Alright, Oreo, let’s see if you can make him feel any better.”

Scott was fully absorbed in one of the books when they came back in, pouring over a page depicting a werewolf in full shift, and flinched slightly in surprise as he saw them. Laura hadn’t done a full shift since the night Peter attacked her. When she was just learning how to, her mother guiding her through it, she practiced every full moon when it would be easiest. After she’d learnt, and after the fire, she reserved the full shift for when she wanted to get away from the world for a bit, as no one would approach a wolf. Peter had achieved it at some point, based upon Scott’s description and the reports coming in from walkers every few days, though Laura wasn’t sure how. Spending ten years in a coma didn’t usually result in better control. 

“Hi, Oreo,” he cooed, turning his attention to the cat who immediately started trying to seek him out. “Time for your medicine, and then you can have dinner, yeah?”

He was so gentle with the cat, stroking her head delicately and scratching her stomach as she rolled onto her back. It was lovely to see. Alan was getting the medicine ready, collecting the drugs and needles from various locked drawers. In one of those cupboards, his more supernatural remedies were hidden away for special circumstances. 

“You ready for another lesson, Scott?” he asked, bringing the medicine over. Scott nodded curiously.

“Do you remember on the full moon, that it hurt?” Laura began awkwardly. He nodded again and she heard his heartbeat increase. “Do you remember that I was able to take some of that pain away?”

“Yeah, your veins went all black,” he replied. “Is it an alpha thing?”

“Alphas tend to be better at it,” she said. “But any werewolf can do it. Can you give me your hand?”

He reached out over to her and she guided his hand to rest firmly on Oreo’s side. Alphas could trigger the first part of taking away the pain, for betas who were new to the idea of it, usually just bitten wolves, but they would have to continue it themselves. After a short moment, Scott’s veins started to turn dark, almost going completely black, and the colours ran up his forearm. 

  
  


<>

  
  


It was a strange feeling, having the pain running up his arm.

Scott was reminded, vaguely, of when he had been in hospital when he was little. He had spent most of the time with an IV in his hand and, when the bag was changed, cold water had to be sent through the needle. It had shot up his arm, the chill going up pathways underneath his skin. When he was little he’d had his mum there to explain it to him, making it less scary. 

The pain spread out from the veins in his arms to resonate throughout his entire body. There was a dull ache everywhere, making his hands tremble. Tears sprung to his eyes, for the second time in just that hour, and he let them flow down his face, grinning. Deaton quickly gave Oreo the injection, rewarding her with a small bite of cheese and pets. 

“I took some of her pain?” he asked hopefully.

“You did, you did really well,” Alan reassured him. “I’ll go and give Oreo her dinner.”

Laura pulled two chairs out of the corner of the room and they sat down, going through the books. Scott was looking at the same page as earlier, squinting at the cramped and scribbled writing and examining the collection of diagrams. She had explained, briefly, that she could transform into a full wolf, though he had never seen it, but she wondered if he had anymore questions about it. His friend, the sheriff’s son, probably did if their, admittedly limited, interactions were anything to go off of. 

“You can ask, if you want to.”

“Do you look like a normal wolf?” he asked almost shyly. “Or do you look more like Peter? Or like Lupin from Harry Potter?”

“It works more on a case by case basis,” Laura began. “The way I was taught it was that the shape you take reflects the person that you are. Peter looks like a monster because … he is a monster. I’m just a wolf, I look quite similar to how my mum did, but, sometimes, when people are bitten, they become a different animal, or, if there’s something else about them that hasn’t activated, the bite will trigger it.”

“But in most cases, people just become werewolves?”

“Yeah, and we look like wolves, normally.”


	52. Pack Mentality Part Twelve

Scott cycled home quickly, wanting to make sure he left enough time to get ready, and grabbed the bag of leftovers that was being kept in the fridge. Despite his session with Laura going well and even though he knew he wasn’t to blame for the bus driver getting attacked, he was still feeling guilty about it all. He had been there, he could have done something. But, he figured, maybe visiting the man, seeing how he was doing, would help somewhat. And it always helped him to see his mum. 

The hospital wasn’t too busy when he walked in, always a good sign, and his mum was stood by the receptionist’s desk meaning he didn’t have to disturb any of the other nurses to look for her. Scott held the leftovers up for her, making sure Melissa could see it. 

“Is my beautiful, talented and wonderful son actually bringing me dinner?” she asked, delighted. Scott placed it down in front of her happily. 

“Thought you wouldn’t mind skipping the cafeteria tonight.”

“You are the most thoughtful, loving, most conniving little con artist ever,” Melissa told him and he gasped in mock-hurt. It wouldn’t be the first time that he had bribed her with food. “You are so not getting the car tomorrow night.”

“Mum.”

“What? There’s a curfew, no car. But I will take this. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Scott replied, watching as she went back to the nurse’s room behind the reception, where they ate and had coffee. He had spent a lot of time back there when he was younger, doing his colouring or his homework at the table, having to be propped up on multiple pillows to reach. Most of the nurses knew him either through his mum or had helped to treat him at some point when his asthma had been so bad he’d been hospitalised for months. Before Tommy had retired, he’d always saved a spare biscuit for him on long nights and, on rare occasions, snuck him hot chocolate.

He caught a familiar scent as he stood there and felt dread creeping up his back. 

The scent itself was filling his mind with flashing, gruesome memories but it was mixed with dried blood and medicines that reminded Scott of the much worse memories of when he had been in hospital. He began walking, grateful for another reason that the hospital was quiet that night, and approached it with mounting fear. Scott wasn’t sure what he wanted to happen. He knew the man was injured, had seen him in chemistry, had been there at the attack, though his memory of it was hazy. 

It was a private room, any bad injuries always had private rooms to stop other patients from being scared, and there were thankfully no nurses to catch him. Scott shut the door behind him. The room itself was dark, patients were meant to sleep to rest, and the bus driver was behind a privacy curtain. He reached out and pulled it back, the rings scraping painfully against the bar they were strung on. 

A bandage was wrapped around the man’s forehead though his face was covered in cuts and there were a few deep lacerations down his right arm. There was a cannula in his nose, a machine monitoring oxygen, heart rate and a few other functions that Scott wasn’t in the right mind to recognise. A steady beeping filled the room, and that was always a good sound, and if there was no one monitoring him, he was less likely to suddenly deteriorate and die. Steady readings and alone. He was doing okay.

“Mr Meyers,” Scott began, nervously. He had known the man for a short while when he lived with his dad and he had always been happy to see them all. Scott doubted that was the case now. His eyes fluttered open, head turning on the pillow, revealing a blood stained bandage on his neck, to face Scott. For a brief moment nothing happened, other than the mounting sense of guilt building in Scott’s stomach. “Are you okay?”

At first, there was no response, just painful-sounding breaths rasping out of his lungs, but then Scott saw recognition spark in his eyes. Recognition and fear. He started trying to pull himself up in bed, moving away from Scott, and the heart rate monitor was beeping faster and faster. Scott froze, not sure what to do, and stood there watching. Mr Meyers reached out suddenly and grabbed his arm, shouting incomprehensibly, making Scott start in fright. Scott tried to pull away without hurting him, without hurting him anymore, but it wasn’t working. 

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Melissa exclaimed bursting into the room. She pulled Scott away before going straight to the man still crying out in bed, shaking with fear. “Get out, now. Go. Go, go!”

Meyers was beginning to scream and Scott ran, darting into the nearest bathroom and hiding in one of the stalls. He could still hear the shouts no matter how tightly he covered his ears, claws coming out to dig into the back of his neck, drawing blood. Scott fell to the floor, trying to force himself to calm down, to think about something else. It took a long time, too long, before he felt safe enough to lower his hands, stained with blood, and he leant his head back against the wall of the stall. 

Once panic and fear were no longer flooding his system and he could think clearly, Scott tried to come up with a plan. Obviously his mum would want to know what the hell he was thinking to visit a man in critical condition, unsupervised. He just had to come up with an answer that didn’t involve the supernatural. The only problem was that he couldn’t think of an answer, even for himself. 

When he did leave the bathroom, washing his hands and the back of his neck carefully to make sure his mum couldn’t spot even a miniscule speck of blood on him, she would lose it if she knew he was hurt, Melissa was outside waiting, arms crossed. The look on her face wasn’t one he saw frequently but he recognised it easily enough. That was the ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ look, coupled with genuine worry, just to really cut at his heart. Scott was prepared to tell her the entire truth in that moment, ignoring any of the consequences, if it meant she never had to feel that again. 

“We need to talk,” she said firmly, leading him by the arm to just outside the front of the hospital. “Why were you going into a patient’s room? I know you used to visit people when you were little but that was when you  _ were _ a patient, and you always had a nurse with you. Why would you be this stupid?”

“I was worried about him,” Scott admitted. “I saw him get put into the ambulance during chemistry and he was all in pain and covered in blood-”

“You  _ saw  _ it?” Melissa interrupted, sounding horrified. “At school? During a lesson? Did anyone else?”

“Yeah, the whole class. We could see the ambulance from the window.”

“Well, that is a serious problem,” she muttered, almost entirely to herself. “They were given explicit instructions not to park in front of any of the occupied parts of the school, specifically to avoid this.”

“It’s fine, mum, really,” Scott tried to reassure her.

“It’s not,” she shot back. “That can really scare some people, Scott. I’m glad that you’re mostly okay, obviously not completely okay judging by what you just did, but that’s not okay.”

“Alright.”

“Are you sure you’re alright? Is there anything you need to talk about?”

“Um, I’m working through it with one of the guidance counsellors,” Scott said awkwardly and she grinned at him. “So I’m figuring it out. I had a session during last period today, I had a free.”

“Oh, that’s so good, mijo,” she gushed, hugging him. “I’m really proud of you for that. It’s a very mature thing to do and it almost makes up for your stupidity in there.”

“Does the leftovers cover the last part of the stupidity?” he asked. Melissa chuckled and then nodded. “Thanks, mum. I’m sorry, I really am. I just … I wanted to see how he was. Is he doing okay now?”

“Still in critical condition,” Melissa told him solemnly. “You didn’t make him any worse, so I don’t want you beating yourself up about that. He used to be your bus driver for a while, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t say the last part, she didn’t say ‘when you used to live with your dad’. They didn’t talk about him much after he left. Scott still wasn’t sure why he had left, not the specifics, anyway, and he didn’t want to upset his mum any more by asking about it. The most they had talked about him was when Melissa told him, years before, that it wasn’t Scott’s fault and he shouldn’t ever blame himself. Scott figured she knew best, though it took a long time to get used to how quiet the house was, and managed to move on. 

“Yeah, this must feel pretty rough,” she said, tidying up his hair. “Are you going to head home now?”

“It’s getting dark and the battery in my light is going, so probably.”

“Alright, well be safe and drive carefully tomorrow.”

Scott was halfway to the bike rack when he processed those last few words and grinned to himself. Sending her a quick thank you text, he got on his bike and cycled back home, exhausted but lighter than he had been at the start of the day. 


	53. Pack Mentality Part Thirteen

Scott paced anxiously at home, going up and down the length of his bedroom, walking the length of the hallway when it got too boring to occupy his thoughts. It was dark outside but not too late so he and Stiles were meeting up at his house later for video games and pizza, at his friend’s suggestion. A destresser for the both of them. He needed it for definite and Scott doubted that Stiles was in a relaxed state with everything going on. Seeing Mr Meyers in a hospital bed had rattled him and he wasn’t sure how to think about it all, thoughts jumbled and panicked.

He got out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, stopping at Deaton’s name and pausing. Scott wasn’t sure if he wanted to bother the veterinarian with just small concerns, especially if he was dealing with helping Laura and Derek catch Peter Hale and keeping the sheriff away from all of the supernatural things happening in town. His worries about a man being looked after and monitored at the hospital paled slightly in comparison. Just as he was about to start hyperventilating about what had happened, again, his phone buzzed.

It was a message from Deaton.

_ Hi Scott. Hope you’re doing alright, your session today was pretty intense. Just in case you were wondering, Mrs Jones sent me some pictures of the kittens all settled in at home. _

Attached to the text were the kittens they had helped deliver only a few hours, only a few hours, it had been a long day, on a large cat bed with Marigold lying protectively next to them, glaring at Mrs Jones as she dared to take the picture. They all looked healthy though it would be at least a week until their eyes opened. Scott grinned, zooming in as best he could to look at them individually. Marigold was a bright ginger, as was the one nearest to her. The other three were deep shades of brown, a similar colour to the other cat that lived on Mrs Jones’ road. 

_ Hi, I’m a little shaken but I talked to my mum and I’m going over Stiles’ in a bit so I should be okay. Thanks for the picture of the kittens and I’ll see you soon. _

  
  


<>

  
  


“Remind me again why you wanted to do baking as soon as you got home?” Marin asked as Laura peered into the oven to check on the cookies. It wasn’t too late but usually Laura needed a lot of preparation, both for the recipe and mentally, so it was most likely a little unsettling for her wife.

“I wanted to bake something and I was in the mood for cookies,” she shrugged before reaching for the oven mitts kept right next to the oven in case something went wrong with the cookies and she needed to pull them out immediately. If it was actually dangerous Laura could pull the tray out with her bare hands but even though the burns, however severe, healed within seconds, Marin understandably preferred it when she did it the normal way. “I think they’re done.”

She deposited the dozen and a half cookies onto the cooling racks, leaving the tray on the side to cool off before putting it in the dishwasher, and sat down next to her wife, who was already eating one. Laura picked up a cookie and bit into it experimentally. She had never been the best at baking; cooking was easy but baking was more of an exact science, an exact science she didn’t think she would ever master. Cooking was easier; so long as meat was cooked through and fish wasn’t raw, you were usually okay. But the cookie tasted okay and the amount of chocolate chips she had put into the mix helped mask any imperfections.

“Delicious, babe,” Marin told her, kissing her cheek. “You did a good job.”

“Thanks,” Laura replied, finishing off her own cookie. They left the rest of the cookies in a tub, to be saved for later, though Laura knew for a fact they would all be gone after about two days. She would probably make another batch for when Alan and, hopefully, Derek came over on Friday. “You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Always a reassuring thing to hear,” Marin joked but Laura could hear the concern in her voice. “Are you alright?”

“It’s a good thing. You know, Mrs Jones, Lizzie’s mum? She was the year above us.”

“Yeah, she was the captain before you. A defender, right?”

“I think so,” Laura said, trying to remember the piece of information before shaking her head, focusing back on her original train of thought. The older she got, the more and more her high school memories blurred. Part of it was the natural effect of time passing but a lot of it was due to the overarching pain of lots of those memories including her family and her avoiding those memories because of it. Derek didn’t like talking about his time at Beacon Hills High, though he was okay talking about his high school in New York, and Laura wasn’t sure if it was because he couldn’t remember much, or if it was because he could remember all of it. “Her cat, Marigold, apparently just had kittens. We’ve talked about adopting a pet before and cats are lower maintenance than dogs.”

“You want to adopt one of Mrs Jones’ kittens?” Marin asked her.

Laura was happy to notice her wife didn’t seem to be against the idea of a cat but she definitely was apprehensive. That was understandable. There was a lot going on in their lives,  _ a lot _ , and adding another responsibility to deal with was not a good idea. But in a few months, when things had died down a little bit, they could actually do it.

“Maybe not one of  _ her _ kittens,” she said. “But in a little while, when things are easier, we could adopt a kitten. Alan normally puts up fliers when he knows about people giving away kittens and puppies, doesn’t he?”

“I think so. If owners don’t want to keep them, or at least don't want to keep all of them, he volunteers to help get them into new homes,” Marin said thoughtfully. “You’ve never had a pet, have you?”

“No, but you had Sooty, when we were little so you know the gist of it.”

“I vaguely know what to do, and if we do get a cat I don’t doubt that Alan will want to help out wherever he can.”

Sooty had been a tiny, pathetic looking, black cat. He was small and shy but adored Marin and just about tolerated Laura’s presence. Laura was fairly sure that it was because of the fact that she always had Marin’s scent on her that the cat never clawed her, since she spent most of her time with Marin. The cat had died when they were nine and Marin had been devastated for weeks afterwards, so much so that they hadn’t adopted any other pets. Alan was already pretty much living on his own by that point so any animals he would have adopted, always a bleeding heart when there were animals involved, stayed with him. Laura’s family never had pets. A house full of werewolves was difficult enough. 

“You’ve gone all tense,” Laura noticed, her hand immediately going to her wife’s shoulder, feeling how tight she was there. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, I’ve just been thinking about the bus driver again,” she sighed, leaning into Laura’s touch. “There’s something about his name that rings a bell and I don’t know what.”

“Yeah,” Laura agreed. “Have you ever worked with him on a school thing? You’ve done bus duty before, right?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever properly spoken to him, and I don’t do bus duty very often. And it feels older than that.”

“We can do a little bit of research tomorrow,” Laura yawned. “It’s getting late and it’s been a  _ very _ long day. Do you want to head to bed or do you need a little bit longer to unwind?”

“No, I’ll go now.”

Laura checked her phone for any missed messages, finding only a few emails for work that she didn’t have to deal with until the next day, and a message from Alan with a picture of the new kittens that he and Scott had delivered. They were adorable, so tiny they could easily fit in her palm, with closed eyes and a very protective looking mother in the background. Marin was in the shower, humming a nonsensical tune just about audible over the running water, and Laura found herself being lulled to sleep from the familiar sounds. 

When Marin joined her in bed, the world had become comfortably muted so that she could just drift off as soon as she had the weight of her wife in her arms. Laura wrapped herself around Marin instinctually and closed her eyes, feeling the sleep take over her immediately. 

“Love you,” Marin mumbled, sounding just as tired as Laura felt. 


	54. Pack Mentality Part Fourteen

“So just because he’s the dick that bit you,” Stiles said with a mouth full of pizza, “He has control over you? That’s so stupid. Who does that benefit?”

“Well, normally when someone gets bit, it’s the alpha of the pack and it helps to train them,” Scott said, trying to remember Deaton’s lessons. With everything he was learning, his head was too full to process any of the information. “It’s just that sometimes people who aren’t the alpha bite people, and sometimes those people are left to die or cope with all of it.”

“Rough,” Stiles said before grabbing another slice. His meds had worn off about half an hour ago, meaning that for another twenty minutes or so he would be on a feeding frenzy. Between the two of them they had two large pizzas and three sides of garlic bread. Before Scott had been bit, he struggled to finish half of a medium pizza and Stiles would eat the other half and a smaller one, now he ate his share of the entire meal with ease. 

They’d paused the video game for a little while, the menu floating on the screen with the intro music playing on loop in the background. With the sheriff having to work extra hours because of all of the weird occurrences and the recent attack on the bus, much like he had done when they were younger and Stiles’ mum had only been dead a handful of years, the rest of the house was silent and Scott could almost pretend that nothing had changed. 

“Yeah, Laura says most hunters ignore werewolves so long as they don’t bite people,” Scott explained. “Born werewolves have an easier time with control so they don’t stand out very much and they’re not hurting anyone if they don’t bite people.”

“This whole hunter thing is so weird,” Stiles contemplated. “Like, is it something that they always know? We’re assuming Allison doesn’t know, but how would her parents start that conversation? Like, hey, werewolves are real and we murder them. Ready to learn how to do that?”

“I mean, if they do it a lot, Allison’s family move loads, remember, she probably suspects them of doing something weird.”

“Maybe she thinks they’re in a cult,” Stiles suggested. “Might explain all the moving and why they’re all weird. I mean, if they’re murdering people in their free time they must be a little weird.”

Scott made a noise of acknowledgement and leaned back on the bed. Deaton had explained that most hunters didn’t view werewolves as people, making it easier for them to kill. There were hunter families, like the Argents, where it was like a family tradition to become hunters, that they had their own rules that they followed like gospel. He wasn’t sure how he’d respond if his mum or dad sat him down and explained that they had a history of murdering supernatural creatures, probably responding in the same way that Stiles suggested. 

“But Peter made you go out to the bus?” Stiles prompted. Scott sighed.

“Yeah, he tried to make me attack the bus driver, then attacked me and then Meyers when I didn’t do it,” he explained. “I think he cut my chest, when I was remembering it, I could remember that there was this really sharp pain in, like, a line. But I wasn’t wearing a shirt and it healed by the time I woke up.”

“You don’t sleep with a shirt on?”

“No, I get too hot now,” Scott said. “Apparently my natural body temperature is higher now.”

“Like in Twilight?”

“I have no idea.”

“The wolves in Twilight, though they technically aren’t werewolves, they were always really hot which was why they wore shorts and no shirts.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

They fell silent again and Stiles wordlessly handed him a controller, unpausing the game. It wasn’t particularly complicated, a game they had completed years before but went back to for the nostalgia. With Scott’s enhanced reflexes, something he really struggled with keeping under control, he found it incredibly easy. Whilst his strength and his speed were easy to recognise and, therefore, easy to keep under control, his reflexes came out when he was working on instinct, much harder to keep hidden. His mum was becoming a little suspicious, even more now that she had noticed he wasn’t using his inhaler.

“Did you talk about the bus with Deaton and Laura?” Stiles asked, not looking away from the screen.

“Yeah, I got pretty freaked out by it all but I got it all out. Rest of the session went well. Learned how to take pain, on one of the cats that is staying at the clinic at the moment.”

“Like what happened on the night of the full moon? When her veins went all black when she held your wrist?”

“‘Cause she’s an alpha, she’s better at it, and because she’s had more practice, but I managed it. You know the cat, Oreo, the one with cancer? I took her pain before she had her painkillers for the night. I could feel it crawling up my arm, like when an IV bag is being changed, when the water is sent up your arm.”

“Oh, my mum hated it when they did that,” Stiles commiserated. “Said it felt creepy being able to feel her veins.”

“It’s not pleasant,” Scott agreed. “But, yeah, it was like that but with pain.”

“It’s weird knowing that Laura’s married to Mrs Morrell. Like, it’s a small town, it makes sense that your boss is related to one of our teachers, I get that. But we know Laura, now, she’s like a person and she’s married to a teacher. We’re highschoolers, teachers aren’t allowed to be people until we’re adults.”

Scott snorted. 

It had been a little bit strange in the beginning of his counselling session, knowing that Mrs Morrell was married to Laura. Part of it, he knew, was because it couldn’t be like a proper counselling appointment because of the whole werewolf-thing, like she had explained. But there was a little voice in his head reminding him that she had a life outside of the school. Scott could empathise with Stiles’ struggle to process that information. 

“Like, I’ll see her in the hallways and stuff, or I’ll hear her teaching when I’ve got a free period, and I’ll just remember that she knows all about werewolves and magic and stuff. How can you teach teenagers when you know all of the stuff she probably does?”

Deaton had actually explained that. Druids were raised with community as a priority, it was why Deaton was a vet, why Morrell was a teacher, and why his parents were in medicine. When you are raised learning how to help people, how to give good and trustworthy advice, it became practically instinctual to help people where you could. Scott could understand always wanting to help people when you were raised to do it. 

“It’s a druid thing,” he said, unable to articulate it in a way that would properly get the sentiment across. “It’s how they were raised, they’re taught that community is the most important thing and that must carry over when they become adults.”

“Weird,” Stiles murmured. “I wouldn’t be able to do that.”

“You weren’t raised as a druid, though,” Scott pointed out. “It’s something they learn from a very young age. I guess it’s because they have so much to learn, they need to start as early as possible.”

As they completed the next level the game was paused again. Scott tapped against the controller nervously. He had managed to deny Peter the night before, but he had still been called to the bus, and he had been called out to the preserve in the middle of the night as well. If he was brought out again, Scott didn’t know if he could trust his unconscious to refuse Peter again. He knew it would get easier, now that he could control himself better when awake, but there was still that underlying fear. 

“Hey, have you figured out that anchor thing yet?” Stiles asked curiously. “Is that what it’s called? The thing that helps keep you human and less murdery?”

“Yeah,” Scott grinned. “You wanna hear what it is?”

“Now I do.”

“You and my mum, it’s family,” Scott explained. “I think about all the times you two have been my family and I get all calm, like the werewolf thing just sort of goes away, I suddenly get control over myself again.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind when you’re out bowling. A couple pictures of us missing our front teeth might help you stop clawing Jackson’s eyes out,” Stiles joked but Scott could feel how happy his friend was about what he had been told. “Although, if he keeps being such a jackass, maybe I won’t text you.”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Scott groaned. “I keep seeing this image of him just throwing a bowling ball at my head. And that’s not even considering the fact that I haven’t bowled since we were eight. And I was terrible when I was eight.”


	55. Pack Mentality Part Fifteen

Scott pulled up in front of the bowling alley, his nerves high. The talk with Mrs Morrell had helped, knowing that he wasn’t the one who attacked Mr Meyers, knowing that he had at least a little supernatural benefit for doing good in bowling, but he was still convinced that he was going to humiliate himself and reveal the secret of werewolves, all in one night. After a few deep breaths his claws disappeared into his normal nails again and Scott felt safe enough to go into the building.

It was loud when he was inside, the bowling alley was always loud, with the games being played and the arcade in the back half of the building but with enhanced hearing it was verging on painful. Allison had texted him earlier that her and Lydia had just arrived, sitting in their lane with Jackson who just had to be there first. He swapped his shoes for the bowling ones, the heavier shoes not as awkward as he remembered. Scott wasn’t sure if it was his new strengths or if he just wasn’t as awkward when he was eight but he was glad that there was something going good for him.

“You’re here,” Allison exclaimed, walking over and hugging him. Scott hugged her back automatically but gave her a questioning look as she was pulling away. In response, Allison subtly jerked her head towards where Jackson and Lydia sat, looking like they could be a couple. Sympathy surged in Scott and he quickly made his way into the lane. 

“Now we can start,” Jackson grumbled. He had picked his own ball already, resting in the lane of the ball return and another ball, Lydia’s he assumed since Allison was walking over to choose, and their names had been added into the machine. “Girls go first, then us.”

“ _ Ladies _ first,” Lydia corrected him. 

Allison was holding up a dark blue ball with swirls, studying it and the weight of it in her palm with deadly seriousness. She put it down and began looking at the rest of the selection critically.

“You really look like you know what you’re doing,” Scott said appreciatively, now a little more scared of Allison than he was of Jackson. 

“Used to bowl with my dad,” she replied, lifting up another ball. It looked heavier and the reminder of her dad, a hunter who had shot him, did nothing to lessen the fear. “When was the last time you bowled?”

“Uh, at a birthday party,” he said, not lying. Allison picked up a light purple ball, studying it with the same careful look before smiling and making her way over to the lane. Scott slumped a little and decided to pick one at random. He didn’t know what difference the weight of the ball made beyond the basics, heavy balls knocked more pins but lighter balls could be thrown harder and that could probably make them the same if he knew what he was doing, and grabbed a random one. Allison walked out of earshot and he sighed, “When I was eight.”

Lydia was up first, being guided through the motions by Jackson, getting the ball in the gutter on the first throw and only knocking down three on the second. They were standing very close together and Scott could feel the jealousy and hurt from Allison even without supersenses. It couldn’t be fun to watch that.

“I’m so bad at this,” Lydia huffed but it didn’t sound particularly sincere to Scott’s ears, her heartbeat going a little strange. 

It was Allison’s go after that and Scott watched her carefully. If she knew what to do, then he could probably do his best to copy her and maybe not completely embarrass himself. With Lydia apparently, trying to fail he might not come last and that was really all he was hoping for. She threw and looked like a professional doing it, the ball going in a perfect line to score an easy strike. The display above them did a little celebration as her score was adjusted. 

“Somebody brought their A game,” Lydia said appreciatively. 

“Good job,” Scott agreed, high-fiving her. 

Jackson was going up to bowl, also looking like a professional and also scoring a strike. Lydia cheered as the display did a second celebration and Jackson had a smug look as he went to sit down by them again, as if he was never worried he wouldn’t get anything other than perfect. If it wasn’t for the smell of anxiety on the other boy, Scott probably would have believed it as well. 

“You’re up, McCall,” Jackson said, both him and Lydia turning to look at him in a predatory way as if they’d rehearsed it. Scott felt his heart rate double, too scared of embarrassment to even think about worrying about losing control.

“You can do it, Scott,” Allison encouraged, nudging him to stand up. She seemed sincere but that may have been because he lied about his talents. 

He grabbed his ball and approached the lane slowly, both grateful that the pins were taking a while to be set up and wishing for it all to be over. It was easier after the first round, he vaguely remembered, when he was somewhat used to the weight of the ball and more familiar with his failings. On his first throw, the ball almost immediately went into the gutter, causing Jackson to laugh as though the girl sitting next to him, a girl he apparently really cared for, hadn’t done the exact same thing on her first throw. 

There was a wave of embarrassment shooting through him. 

“Jackson, mind shutting up?” Allison asked. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I’m just flashing back to the words ‘I’m a great bowler’,” he continued to laugh. 

“Maybe he just needs a little warm-up,” Allison countered, but there was a bit of doubt in her words. Scott really hoped he wouldn’t let her down, especially with her defending him from Jackson. 

“Yeah, maybe he just needs the kiddy bumpers,” he joked cruelly. 

Scott grabbed his ball from the return machine and went back to face the lane. It couldn’t get any worse, the ball had gone  _ straight _ into the gutter on his first throw, but with any luck he might get a couple of pins down. 

“Just … just aim for the middle,” Allison told him as helpfully as she could.

“How about aim for anything except the gutter?” Jackson suggested. 

“Let him concentrate.”

“Come on, just one pin, please,” Scott begged quietly to anyone who would listen and help. The universe hadn’t been particularly kind to him recently, so he deserved just one lucky throw. Anything but the gutter again. 

He threw the ball again and it went down the lane, rolling somewhat quickly, looking as if he might get at least one pin, maybe even a few, before veering to the side and hitting the gutter right before reaching the pins. Disappointment flooded him, feeling stupid for even thinking he could do well despite not having played in eight years. Jackson’s laughing didn’t help. 

“Great job, McCall. Man you are a pro.”

“Don’t worry, we only just started,” Allison reassured him.

Jackson got up for his go, only managing a spare that time and seeming disappointed in himself. If he hadn’t just been so cruel about Scott failing to hit even one, he might have felt sorry for the amount of pressure and expectations that Jackson put on himself. That much stress could not have been healthy, even for someone as high achieving as he was. Lydia went, again being helped by Jackson, and managed to get a seven, bringing her total up to ten. Ten more than Scott himself had, Jackson was quick to remind him. Allison got a spare as well, keeping her tied with Jackson and Scott smelled a wave of anxiety from the other boy when she managed that.

Then it was his go again and somehow his anxiety was even higher. He stood in front of the lane, desperately hoping for something better than a repeat performance, and Allison approached him from behind. 

“Scott, you’re thinking too much,” she whispered to him, a thought that had raced through his head about fifty times by that point. 

“I know, I’m sorry I’m ruining this,” he replied. It couldn’t feel great to defend someone and for that person to disappoint your every expectation. 

“No, no, not at all,” Allison said quickly. “But I wouldn’t mind shutting them up so just clear your head and think about something else.”

“Like what?” Scott asked. 

“Anything. Maybe think about your last crush,” Allison suggested and the image of Danny after lacrosse practice popped into his mind, cheeks flushing slightly. Allison was about to walk away before turning back to him and giving him one more suggestion: “Naked.”

His cheeks were bright red.

Scott took a deep breath, looked down the lane, remembered that he had strength and reflexes beyond his wildest dreams, thought about Danny after lacrosse practice, and threw the ball. It shot down the lane, knocking down all of the pins with ease and giving him a strike. Allison cheered immediately, sounding delighted.

“What did you say to him?” Lydia asked, sounding confused, as Scott walked back to the seats.

“I just gave him something to think about,” she replied casually. 

They went through the next few rounds and Scott was so excited about his success that he didn’t even feel particularly threatened when Jackson managed another strike and told Scott to ‘try and beat that’. With each turn, Scott managed to get strike after strike, beating even the highest of expectations.

“That is seriously amazing,” Allison cheered. “Jackson, how many strikes is that?”

“It’s six,” the other boy replied angrily. “In a row.”

“Something just clicked, I guess,” Scott told the group, looking at Allison gratefully. He’d probably have to be calming down from possibly losing control in the bathroom if it wasn’t for her.

“Maybe it’s just natural talent.”

“I could use a little natural talent,” Lydia said in a voice that made Scott fear whatever her next words and actions were. Choosing between her and Peter in full wolf monster nightmare mode, he would probably pick Peter. “You mind helping me out this time, Scott?”

“No, you’re good,” he replied nervously, not wanting to upset her but also really not wanting to do what she was asking. “Go for it.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Hey, I’ll help,” Jackson volunteered, already standing up.

“How about I just try this one on my own?”

Lydia went up to the lane, holding her ball up, and threw with more confidence and skill than she had in all other rounds combined, and they all watched as it shot down the lane, knocking down all the pins. It confirmed Scott’s theory about her previously playing to lose and his other theory that Lydia was good at everything and probably going to take over the world one day. 

“I think I’m getting the hang of it,” Lydia told them, smiling knowingly at Scott and Allison. 

“That was sort of … perfect form,” Allison told her with awe in her voice. Her heartbeat had sped up, even more than it usually did when Lydia was around. 

“Was it?” Lydia asked, seeming almost scared that someone had caught onto the fact she had been pretending earlier.

“Maybe you should stop pretending to suck just for his benefit,” she suggested, leaning in close to say it quietly. Jackson definitely wouldn’t appreciate overhearing that particular comment and he was already in a pretty miserable mood. 

“Trust me, I used to do plenty of sucking just for his benefit.”

And with that Scott knew more about Lydia than he would ever want to. 


	56. Pack Mentality Part Sixteen

Laura was sat at the kitchen table, working through a particularly difficult report. Marin was upstairs in the shower, planning on going to bed a little earlier than usual, and Laura was planning on joining her once she finished but Derek came through the door smelling of anger and fear, putting a halt on any of her plans. Those two emotions weren’t a good mix for anyone but with Derek it was especially dangerous. 

“What happened?” she asked, forgoing any pleasantries or greetings. Derek wouldn’t appreciate either and they both knew she could already tell that something was wrong. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine,” he replied, heartbeat steady of the first word but skipping on the last. He wasn’t but he definitely wasn’t okay. After a moment of silence, Laura tried again.

“Der, what happened?”

“I went to go fill the car up,” he began slowly, sitting at the table. Laura couldn’t tell if fear had shocked him into being so still or if he was purposefully keeping himself still to stop the anger getting out but the lack of movement was unsettling. “And as I was doing it, two cars pulled up. Like a mix between a truck and a minivan.”

Her heart dropped. In any other circumstances, the fact that the villains of their lives drove the type of cars that could be confused with minivans would be funny but it came with the threat that no one would bat an eye for that type of car to be driving around a suburban area. No one would pay it much attention, no one would care much, no one would be uneasy when they saw it which gave them even less of a warning for if they were being followed. 

“They didn’t say anything outright as a threat,” he said. “They can’t, not according to their  _ Code _ , anyway, but they got the message across fine.”

“They’re watching us,” Laura finished, sighing. 

It wasn’t news to them, Laura was surprised it had taken them this long to say something, especially since they’d already gone tracking through the preserve, but it still wasn’t good to have concrete proof of it. Since the hunters had no evidence, yet, that they were biting new people, though they undoubtedly had their suspicions and a hunter’s idea of evidence wouldn’t fly in court. Scott had been out of control on the full moon, understandably since there was no way he could understand what was going on, and a trained hunter would be able to recognise that. They might assume that he was an omega and that gave them free reign to go after Scott. 

Omegas were dangerous, Laura knew that the absence of a pack could drive someone insane, make them dangerous, but it was hard to reconcile the idea of someone only a few steps away from being the same as a deadly animal and someone as sweet and innocent as Scott. A hunter wouldn’t have that same problem. 

“What, exactly, did they tell you?” she asked after a while. Maybe they could figure out how much the hunters knew, or thought they knew, to have some sort of edge over them. “Leave out no detail, remember.”

“I was out of my car, filling it up because it’s a gas station and that’s what you do,” he began and she rolled her eyes affectionately. If she asked for every detail and explanation, Derek would follow that request to the letter. She was still yet to learn if that was spite or respect but either way it was helpful. “The cars came out, one red, one silver, and sort of trapped me in, the red car in the front, the silver car behind me. 

“Argent got out, lead hunter since his dad’s probably too old to do it now. Just sort of smiled at me for a moment, because he knew I couldn’t do anything, and then two hunters got out of the other car and stared at me. I didn’t do anything, obviously, I couldn’t, and I finished up. Argent came up to me, said ‘nice ride’ because my car is nice and that’s the most stereotypical thing that he could have said. Then he said that black cars are very hard to keep clean as if I somehow don’t know that. Suggested a little more maintenance. Which, if I was human and he was saying that as a genuine piece of advice, I probably would have hit him for saying it.

“He said if I had something nice, I should want to take care of it. Then he started cleaning the windshield. Said he was very protective of the things he loves, so I think that meant the kid who’s in the same grade as Scott. Told me he learned it from his family, and reminded me that we don’t have much of that anymore.”

It took every ounce of Laura’s willpower to stop her eyes from flashing then. She coped a lot better after the fire than Derek, she hadn’t been at home, she hadn’t been a victim of Kate Argent, and she had to cope better, for Derek, but mentioning her family, mentioning the fire still hurt, even only a little bit. Having a hunter talk about them like that, the brother of the woman who set the fire, who brutally murdered innocents, children and humans included, that was like being stabbed. 

“I nearly lost control at that, had to hide my claws in case he took it as a sign that I was a threat and started shooting me. He finished cleaning my windshield and then said how that makes everything clearer. When he was walking away, I told him he forgot to check the oil.”

“Why, Derek, why?” Laura groaned. “You know we can’t fight back.”

“I lost it, and I just said it. He just looked so smug,” he explained, sounding equally distraught about it all. “Then one of the hunters from behind came up and smashed the passenger side’s window of my car. Argent told me to drive safely and then they all left.”

“He smashed your window?”

“Yes.”

“At the gas station?”

“Yes.”

“That … might actually help us,” Laura said, grabbing her laptop. 

“I know you’re not always thrilled about my car but can you lay off it a bit, I’ve had a pretty difficult evening,” Derek complained, not quite catching on to her line of thinking.

“All gas stations have CCTV installed everywhere, since it’s a recurring problem that people fill their cars up and don’t pay,” she explained. “We let the police know, it might stop them from coming near us. Have to make it an anonymous tip off so we’re not immediately suspected, but knowing that law enforcement is involved has made them back off before.”

“Think it will be enough?”

“With any luck it might keep them away from Scott. If the daughter doesn’t know, they won’t want to have to deal with any legal problems; she’s old enough to see through any lies about that.”

Laura went through a few small tasks to hide any connections back to her laptop or IP address and then sent in the anonymous tip, posing as an elderly neighbour, Beacon Hills was strangely full of those, who had seen a man of Derek’s description threatened at the gas station and had his car window smashed. Enough to put the police on high alert, maybe keeping more of an eye on Derek. 

“Is that it?” he asked. “All we need to do?”

“We need to get your car fixed and keep our heads down until they leave, but yes, we’re done for the night,” Laura replied. “Your room is still set up, there should be a few spare changes of clothes.”

“I can head back to my place.”

“You are not driving, at night, with hunters around and a broken window, to an abandoned factory that you live in. You’re going upstairs, you’re having a snack and a drink, and in the morning we’ll call the garage and get them to fix the car. Tell them someone smashed it while you were at the gas station, cover our bases if the police do any basic questions.”

Derek nodded slowly, grabbing a cookie and a glass of milk, Laura having to hide her laugh in her hands at how childish the choices seemed, and kissed her on the cheek before going up to his room.

“Love you, sleep well.”

“You too, Laur.”

She stayed downstairs long enough to pack away the report, she could finish it in the morning if she left a little bit earlier, and shut down her laptop, making sure it was in charge, before she went upstairs to where Marin was reading in bed. Laura climbed straight on top of the bed, not even bothering to get under the covers or to change, and wrapped herself around her wife.

“Derek told me what happened,” Marin said. “Not in as much detail as he told you, I’m sure, but it sounds bad.”

“They’re watching us,” Laura replied, face buried in the crook of her neck, scent-marking her wife briefly. “Waiting for us to slip up, give them a reason to come after us.”

“Then we won’t slip up,” Marin said firmly. “Besides, you gave that tip off to the police; they’re undoubtedly monitoring channels, they’ll see that and back off for a little while longer.”

“Here’s hoping,” she muttered, kissing Marin’s cheek before heaving herself up to get changed. 

_ We’ll be okay, we’ll be okay, we’ll be okay _ . Laura repeated it to herself like a mantra. It was just a little period of difficulty until Peter and the hunters were gone, and hopefully those two problems would battle it out together, leaving them out of the way to look after Scott, and then life would be back to normal. Not safe, never safe, but normal. 

Halfway out of her shirt, Laura stopped again.

“I can’t sleep,” she said. “I’m going to the hospital, maybe if I see Meyers I’ll know why I recognise his name.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Marin asked and Laura could hear the incredulousness and panic in her voice. Understandable, what Laura was planning on doing was very stupid, but she knew she wasn’t going to go to sleep tonight until she got answers for at least one question. Finding out why Peter was attacking random people, trying to force Scott to attack random people, was a very important question.

“No, but I’m going to do it anyway. I’ll text you when I get there and when I’m leaving, if you want.”

“Is there anyway I can talk you out of it?” Marin asked, already climbing out of bed as well and moving in the direction of the wardrobe. Laura caught her hand before she could go any further. 

“Probably not, babe,” she replied. “I’ll only be there for a few minutes, and I’ll be careful. If they’ve made a move on Derek tonight, they probably won’t be out any more than they have to. I just …”

“You need at least one answer,” Marin finished knowingly. “Just tell me you’ll be safe and careful and you will go out of your way to avoid any unnecessary danger.”

“I promise, I promise, and I promise,” she said, kissing Marin softly. “I’ll be home soon.”


	57. Pack Mentality Part Seventeen

Scott had won the game by a landslide, ten consecutive strikes adding up to a very high score, with Jackson and Allison tying and Lydia managing to achieve a pretty impressive score despite playing to lose for the first six rounds. They had split up into the arcade to play for a bit, Scott and Allison playing a game of air hockey that ended in the puck putting a crack in the side of the table and the two of them leaving the area quickly before anyone could see. Lydia asked Allison to help her with the basketball throw and, seeing the flush in Allison’s cheeks as she helped Lydia, Scott left the two of them be. 

He walked through the games, looking for something to play, when he came across the pinball machine and Jackson very angrily playing it. Before that moment, Scott didn’t think anyone could look angry playing pinball but it seemed like Jackson was always angry and his actions always reflected that. 

“Nice shot, man,” Scott said, looking at the points of the machine continued to climb higher and higher. Jackson glared at him. “Listen, I know we both didn’t want to be here. But, the thing is, we don’t have to hate each other.”

“I don’t hate you.”

Scott was fairly certain that wasn’t true based entirely on all of Jackson’s actions their entire lives but he knew better than to interrupt him whilst he looked like he was going to give a speech. Years of being bullied and shoved around by him had taught him that would only end badly. 

“I just don’t believe you,” Jackson continued. “You know, you got everyone thinking everything’s fine and normal about you, but I know something’s off. You cheated tonight”

Panic took control of his heart and Scott fought to keep it off his face. To show it when being accused of something, even something as vague as being ‘off’, would be an immediate admission of guilt, something Jackson would seize on. 

“How do you cheat in bowling?” Scott asked. It wasn’t a question meant to antagonise him, Scott liked to think that he wasn’t an antagonising person, but Jackson could definitely take it that way. 

“I don’t know, but you did,” he replied. “And I don’t know if it’s steroids or something weirder. I’m guessing something weirder since it’s pretty obvious that you’re a freak. So, don’t think for a second I’ve given up on finding out what your little secret is.”

“I don’t have any secrets.”

“Yeah, you do. And here’s the other thing. I don’t know why, but I think whatever it is you’re hiding, you don’t want her to find out about it, either,” Jackson said, looking over at Allison and Lydia. It was clear who he meant. 

Since Jackson didn’t know what was going on, since he didn’t know that Scott was a werewolf, since he didn’t know of the existence of hunters, since he didn’t know the lives he was putting in danger by making that threat, Scott didn’t feel too much anger at the boy standing in front of him. He felt some, because Jackson was always making his life hell and it seemed like that was going to continue for the rest of high school, if Scott lived to see the rest of high school. But most of his anger was directed at whatever force controlled the universe to make everything so crappy all at once. 

Tired of the game, Jackson grabbed his tickets and stalked off, shoving them in the general direction of Lydia and telling her that he was going to wait in the car. That, essentially, translated to finish quickly, so the two girls picked their prizes and separated, one last hug before leaving.

“Do you want a lift?” Scott offered. “There’s a curfew, we probably shouldn’t be walking home.”

“Yeah, my dad doesn’t know I left,” Allison admitted. “Getting pulled into the police station because I went bowling with some friends probably isn’t the smartest move.”

“How did you get out?” he asked as they left the arcade. He hadn’t wanted to get any of the prizes, after slightly damaging the air hockey table he’d been a little wary of any other problems he might accidentally cause.    
  


“Climbed out of my window onto the roof and then jumped down onto the grass,” she shrugged as though it was nothing. Scott stopped dead in his tracks, looking at her in amazement.

“That’s really cool. You’re like a spy, or a superhero,” he said, quickly catching up. “I think I would break all of my bones trying that.”

His bones would heal immediately after the break but it would still hurt and he would still feel stupid. Scott didn’t think he was brave enough to jump off of a roof. The only time he had done anything close was climbing out of his window on the full moon and that had only happened when he was completely out of control of his actions and thoughts. 

“Like Black Widow?”

“I’d like to think you had a nicer childhood than growing up in the Red Room but, yeah, you’re just as cool.”

  
  


<>

  
  


Laura pulled up to the hospital, getting out her phone and texting Marin straight away. She was on high alert but the hospital seemed fairly empty that late at night and she knew how to stay hidden. Supernatural senses, supernatural reflexes and growing up with lots of younger siblings and cousins made her very good at it. She knew what room he was in, checking at the abandoned reception desk just to be sure, and quickly made her way to it. People didn’t question what you were doing when you looked like you knew, it was only loitering and confused people that drew attention. 

Inside the room, he was hidden by a privacy curtain, hiding the machines she could hear beeping and adjusting, monitoring pretty much every bodily function they medically could. No one knew what had attacked him, not yet, and that meant they couldn’t be too careful. She pulled back the curtain slightly, just enough to step through. If someone glanced through the window of the door, they wouldn’t be able to see her. 

Garrison Meyers was asleep, bandages covering his forehead, his neck, soaked in blood, and the smell of it was so strong that she knew there had to be countless others underneath his gown and blankets. A tube was in his nose, helping give him oxygen, and various wires and pads stuck to his skin, connecting to the large collection of medical equipment surrounding him. It reminded Laura uncomfortably of when Peter had been first taken in. The doctors had been optimistic about his recovery at the time, werewolf healing taking care of the superficial injuries and giving them a false hope. 

As she approached the bed, Laura reached out for his hand, not wanting to startle the man too much. His eyes fluttered open weakly, looking around the room, unfocused, before finally landing on her. 

“It’s alright, it’s alright. I just need to ask you some questions. Do you remember anything from the attack?” she asked quietly. 

“Hale,” he wheezed out and Laura stopped cold. Peter had attacked him in wolf form, Scott had confirmed as much, and there was no way that he would have explained to the man he was mauling his family name and nearest blood relatives. Only blood relatives. Meyers must have known them from something else. 

“How do you know my name?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice coming out in not much more than a whisper. He probably didn’t know that Peter Hale had attacked him if he was apologising. Or maybe he was hoping that Laura wouldn’t hurt him the same way if he apologised. 

“How do you know me?”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, seemingly desperate to tell her. She could smell the guilt on him, overpowering the blood and medicines and disinfectant, and it only served to confuse Laura more. Why should he apologise to her? What had he done other than be attacked by her uncle?

Tears were in his eyes and Laura took his hand properly, taking some of the pain. It wasn’t too much, the medicine doing its job, but maybe enough to clear his mind. It didn’t work, instead only upsetting him more, the guilt growing stronger.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, you did nothing,” she told him. The beeping of the machines was growing more insistent and Laura knew that wasn’t good. “You did nothing.”

“I know, I did nothing, nothing for you.”

The words sounded like gibberish, they were gibberish, but then everything clicked into place. Where she knew the name, why Peter went to the school, why he was drawing spirals on dead deer in the preserve, why he didn’t seem to care that the Argents were in town. The beeping continued to get faster and Laura knew that Meyers didn’t have a lot of time left.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say sorry, it’s okay, I promise.”

She left the room, squeezing his hand one last time, before an alert was set off for the nurses to respond to. Her mind was reeling and it took her several minutes in the car to think enough to text Marin that she was coming home, and even longer to calm herself enough that she was safe to drive. 


	58. Pack Mentality Part Eighteen

“So,” Allison began, climbing into the car. “Since you’re such a big fan of comics, who’s your favourite superhero?”

“Nightwing,” Scott replied immediately. “I was obsessed with him when I was little, and he was the first Robin, which I always thought was really cool. Who’s yours?”

“I always liked the X-Men, my favourite’s either Jean Grey or Storm, depends on the comic and the mood I’m in,” she explained. “I was obsessed with comics until I was about thirteen. There’s a couple of boxes in my room just full of comic books and stuff. I just don’t have the heart to throw them out, or give them away.”

“Might be nice to read on a rainy day,” Scott suggested. 

He pulled out of the car park and onto the dark roads of Beacon Hills. The curfew was in its early days and Scott knew that being best friends with the sheriff’s son probably wouldn’t save him if they were caught. Bowling had gone well and Scott wasn’t sure the universe would be nice enough to him that he wouldn’t need to be careful. 

“What were you and Jackson talking about, before he left?” Allison asked. “He seemed pretty pissed off about something, more than normal, anyway.”

“He, uh, he accused me of cheating at bowling,” Scott said awkwardly. He didn’t want to make Jackson seem like a terrible, or stupid person, especially considering that he was, technically, on the right path. It was just that he didn’t know how dangerous that path was, for lots of people, including himself. But Scott was also fairly sure that Jackson’s suspicions would get back to Allison eventually, based mostly on the earlier threat, and he was really hating how much he had to lie to people. “He doesn’t like losing much and I don’t normally win.”

Allison huffed to herself, a small laugh, more at the situation than at him, Scott thought. The night couldn’t have been much fun for her; Lydia and Jackson had been acting a lot like a couple, even more than they normally did, and Scott had almost humiliated her at the start. At least she hadn’t completely lost face and Scott had managed to prove her right. 

“Is he always that much of a dick?” she asked after a few quiet minutes, startling Scott slightly. “‘Cause what he was saying at the beginning of the game … wasn’t great.”

“He used to just ignore me,” Scott shrugged. “Before I made the team, there was no reason for Jackson to pay attention to me. If I was there and somewhat in his way he would be kind of angry and let me know but he didn’t always go out of his way to tell me he didn’t like me. Now, I guess, he sees me as a threat. Not sure to what, but…”

Scott trailed off, not knowing what else to say. Beacon was a small town, everyone knew everyone, especially at the high school, and it was a little strange to have to explain it to someone. Everyone knew what Jackson was like, everyone knew how he treated people he thought weren’t worth his time; it just went without saying that that was how things went. He wondered if Allison was used to it, changing schools so much, or if she struggled to adjust to all of the different unspoken rules that each new school had. Scott knew he would struggle in the same position. 

“I can’t imagine that you’re ever threatening,” Allison joked before pausing, maybe realising there was another interpretation to her words. “Not that you aren’t tough or anything.”

It was hard to remain calm at that comment. Pretty much her entire family, if they ever found out the truth, would see him as nothing but a threat. If Allison ever learnt the truth, she might see him as nothing but a threat too. The influence of her parents’ beliefs would be strong and they’d only known each other for less than a month. Scott didn’t know how much that would count if it ever came down to her making a decision. 

“It’s alright,” he said. “I don’t know many people who would be offended to not be considered threatening. Other than Jackson.”

And Derek, he thought internally.

As kind and careful as Laura was, her brother seemed to thrive on coming off as a threat, as if he scared everyone it would mean he wouldn’t have to deal with any of the threats that being a werewolf. Even if it made him as subtle as a brick to the face. But Laura and Deaton and Mrs Morrell could probably cancel his stupid actions out. 

“I keep getting confused about Lydia,” she sighed, almost completely out of the blue. “Sometimes it feels like she likes me, sometimes it feels like she’s still dating Jackson, even if they both deny it.”

“They’re used to each other,” Scott suggested. “It’s easy to fall back on it. I think she does like you, though, even if she isn’t quite ready to admit it.”

“Really?” Allison asked. “How do you know? You sound so sure.”

Scott couldn’t quite tell her that he could hear the way Lydia’s heart sped up when she saw and spoke to Allison, that he could literally smell the attraction between the two of them, like he was actually seeing sparks. She might think he was insane if he started talking about that. But there were other signs, subtler signs, that he had picked up on. Pretty much everyone but Allison could pick up on. 

“She gets happy when you talk to her,” Scott began. “And she blushes when you laugh or grin at her. And it just feels somewhat obvious, you know. Like when you can see a pattern in something; you might not be able to know what the pattern is, but you know it’s there.”

“I guess,” she agreed. “It’s a little harder to believe it when I’m trying to figure out how to ask her on a date.”

“You’re braver than most people,” he told her sincerely. There were a lot of people in school who liked Allison, most notably Stiles, and many of them would never be able to dream of the courage of asking her out. “Got a plan for asking her?”

“I’m getting there,” Allison said slowly. “It’s definitely going to have to be explicitly a date; otherwise I’m worried she’ll invite Jackson and Danny along with us. Not much of a date.”

“Double date?” Scott said, only half joking. It was a running gag in the changing rooms; Danny would insist Jackson wasn’t his type, Jackson would insist he was everyone’s type. Allison laughed, at least, so it didn’t matter if she didn’t take it entirely seriously. It cheered her up and that was what Scott was aiming for. 

They were getting closer to the Argents’ house and Scott began feeling nervous again. It was difficult not to be nervous when he was near the house; it was full of people who wanted to hunt and kill him. But they didn’t know the truth. All they knew was that he was a friend of Allison’s, a friend who was dropping her off in the night despite there being a curfew in place. They might still want to kill him.

“Um, you can just pull over here,” Allison said. “I can climb back up to my window and that way we won’t get caught.”

“Are you sure? It’s pretty late, I don’t mind driving all the way,” he offered, ignoring the spike of fear in his heart. “I’m sure your parents will just be glad you came home okay.”

“No, best if they just don’t know,” she insisted with a grin. “Thanks for the lift, really. I’ll see you at school.”

“See you then.”

Allison got out of the car, waving goodbye to him as she walked away. Scott watched her as she approached the house, not feeling okay just leaving her in the night until she got inside. She approached the side of the house, taking a few steps back after judging something about the wall, then started running towards it. Jumping off the side, she twisted and caught onto the ledge of the wall perpendicular to it, swinging herself up to her window and opening it easily. She glanced back, spotting him in the car, and waved again before disappearing inside. 

Black Widow indeed. 


	59. Pack Mentality Part Nineteen

Scott arrived home and was surprised to see the lights on. He’d forgotten what time his mum’s shift was ending tonight and wondered if it was worth it offering her a late supper. He was feeling a little bit peckish and it would be good to calm down after a very eventful few days. When he came inside, however, he immediately was put on edge. 

It was a new thing, a werewolf thing, that he had picked up on fairly early after being bitten. He’d learned, very easily, what the different changes in someone’s scent meant, when they were happy, when they were upset. He had also learned when people and pets were sick or dying. They literally smelled of death, an uncomfortable description for anyone. And when Scott came home, there was the faint scent of death, and a strong scent of grief. His heart lurched and he went to the kitchen where he could hear his mum pottering around. 

“Hey, you’re back earlier than I expected,” Melissa greeted. “How did it go?”

“Good,” Scott replied, lips perking up in a smile. “I won.”

“Really?” she gasped excitedly and Scott grinned properly. “Oh, that’s amazing. What was your best throw? Did you get any strikes?”

“Six.”

“Six?”

“In a row.”

“That’s amazing!” Melissa told him. “You’re a pro. Must have shown up that Whittemore kid, huh? Still annoyed at him for tackling you in your first game. What sort of team captain does that? I’m getting off track. Was it fun?”

“Yeah, really fun,” he promised before pausing. The scent of grief was still in the air, chased off, but still there. “Are you alright, mum? You seem a bit … down?”

She grew a little apprehensive then. Scott doubted it was anything immensely serious, the scent would be stronger and his mum would have set up a conversation where he could cope with seriously bad news better. 

“Mr Meyers, the bus driver who was attacked,” Melissa began carefully. “He died about two hours ago. His heart gave up, there wasn’t much we could do, but still.”

“Did he suffer?” Scott asked. He remembered being in hospital, in the ICU. That was always the most important question families asked when they lost someone. Whether or not their loved one suffered before they died. He wondered if Meyers had any loved ones to grieve him, or to ask after him. 

“No, no, mijo, he didn’t,” Melissa said quickly, pulling him into a hug. “He didn’t suffer at all, I promise. He was on painkillers, he went in his sleep, was gone within a few seconds.”

There was a slight waver in her voice, her heartbeat skipping ever so slightly, and Scott knew that there was something she was hiding. He just wasn’t sure how to ask without upsetting his mum. 

“You don’t sound completely sure,” he tried to say carefully.

“I was the first one in the room, when the alarms went off,” she explained. “It felt like someone else had been in there, recently. I don’t think they did anything to him, we would have noticed if someone had messed with his machines, but it’s strange. None of the nurses saw anyone acting differently around the place. Things are just a bit strange in town at the moment.”

Melissa definitely wasn’t wrong about that. Scott hoped that she wasn’t close to figuring out what it was, and his connection to it all. He didn’t think it was likely she would move from brutally attacked man dying, possibly not alone, to her son being a werewolf without significant clues to tell her, but Scott had learnt that his anxiety was not the most logical part of his brain. 

“I’m sorry, mum,” Scott said quietly. “Can’t be easy to lose a patient, especially not one you thought would make it.”

“I’ll be okay,” she told him. “All part of the job. You go on upstairs and get some sleep. There’s a curfew remember, you’re lucky I let you go out.”

“Alright. Love you, mum.”

“Love you too, mijo. Sleep well.”

Scott trekked upstairs, collapsing on his bed. 

The news that Meyers had died had hit him like a ton of bricks. 

He’d been there when Peter had attacked the man, had managed to hold off from joining in, but he hadn’t done enough, he hadn’t saved him. If he had remembered sooner, Meyers could have been found sooner, could have gotten help sooner, might not have died. They might have been able to get answers for why Peter was attacking random people. Scott should have done better, should have done more, no matter what anyone said. 

His laptop beeped, breaking him out of his thoughts. It was a waiting call, Stiles’ info flashing up on the screen. Scott walked over to his desk, rubbing a hand over his tired face. He wouldn’t be surprised if Stiles already knew Meyers was dead. The police would have to be told, it was hospital protocol, and Stiles listened on every call the sheriff had even before all of the werewolf stuff had happened. With a vested interest in the events, there was no way Stiles would have missed the call. 

“Hey, there’s news,” Stiles greeted, the usual frantic energy that accompanied his meds wearing off. “Meyers died. Heart failure, apparently, ‘cause of all his injuries and stuff. Dad says since it was probably an animal attack it’s staying with local forces for the time being but if it keeps going, they’re not sure.”

“Great,” Scott sighed. “That’ll make everything easier; the FBI becoming involved.”

“What if it ended up being your dad?” Stiles joked. 

“Don’t say it, it might actually happen,” he groaned. “I don’t need my dad butting his head into this stuff. He’s never exactly been subtle, has he?”

“No, no, he’s not,” Stiles said darkly. He pulled himself out of whatever thoughts he was having. “Do you think Laura and Deaton know yet, or not? They don’t have any normal connections to the police or the hospital, do they? And dad’s not made any calls to Deaton since the news came in.”

“I’m not sure,” Scott said. “I don’t think I’m in the right space of mind to tell them right now. Texting them I wanted to make sure they knew Meyers was dead seems a bit … wrong, doesn’t it?”

“Seems like something you should probably do over call,” Stiles agreed, nodding sagely. “And it’s a little late to call them. School night and all that. Mrs Morrell’s a teacher, that, at least, affects her. Not sure about anything else; lawyers tend to have weird hours.”

“I guess,” he sighed. 

“How did bowling go? Please tell me you beat Jackson.”

“Six strikes in a row,” Scott said, smiling. “Beat Jackson and he tied with Allison so he had to share second place with her. So not only did he not come first-”

“He had to share,” Stiles finished, laughing gleefully. “The only thing he thinks is worse than losing. Oh, that’s amazing. And that’s a really good score, by the way. Awesome. Some benefits to being a werewolf, after all.”

“Yeah, might want to murder everyone constantly, but at least I can show Jackson up at bowling.”

It came out more bitter than Scott meant it and he sighed again. He was sighing a lot, recently, almost as much as he was lying. He was just tired, tired of everything that was happening, everything he was being forced to contend with, just because Peter decided to bite him. Murderous rage, hunters wanting to kill him, having to fight off transforming into a literal monster once a month, and he’d only done that once so far but he’d have to do it for the rest of his life now. 

“Always a silver lining,” Stiles told him, but even he sounded deflated. “You know, it probably isn’t going to last much longer. I mean, the police are looking into it all. They’ll find something that we can link back to Peter, then Laura and Deaton can do something to make him go away and you can go back to being a normal teenager with superpowers.”

“They don’t feel like superpowers most of the time. But, yeah, it’ll be over soon. Laura and Deaton are coming up with a plan,” Scott said. “There’s a bunch of werewolf stuff I’m still learning; they probably know loads more than us. It probably all makes sense to them, or, at the very least, they can see that it’s going to make sense.”


	60. Pack Mentality Part Twenty

“None of this makes sense,” Derek complained, looking at the old reports. “I don’t even know how we’d go about making this make sense.”

“It’s a bit all over the place, babe,” Marin agreed. 

“Yeah, I may not have set this up in the best way possible,” Laura admitted, every report and file she thought might be relevant strewn across the kitchen table and on every available surface. “But, that doesn’t matter so much. I figured out why Peter attacked Meyers, and where I know his name from. He was the insurance guy.”

“Laura, it’s almost midnight now,” Alan said. “We’re going to need more than ‘insurance guy’.”

“He was the insurance guy who ruled that the fire was an accident,” she explained, looking at the files in front of her whilst monitoring Derek’s reaction very carefully. Marin and Alan were also pointedly not looking, giving him a little while to compose himself again. Laura could smell the anger radiating off of him.

Because the fire had been ruled an accident, very unfairly ruled an accident, it meant there was no real police investigation beyond checking that the accident theory could work. No police investigation meant that Kate Argent, and whoever her accomplices were since Laura truly doubted that her brother had broken the Code, had gotten away with murder far too easily. Derek had been inconsolable when the news reached them. Everyone who had been interacting with them for the case, the police, the insurance people, local news media who were quickly scared away, had assumed it was because he wanted someone to take the blame and learned there was none. Laura knew it was because there was someone to take the blame and they, likely, never would. 

“So it’s not just the hunters who set the fire,” Marin said slowly. “Peter’s going after anyone who had anything to do with it.”

“And we don’t know how far that circle goes,” Laura replied. “We knew he’d go after the Argents, he used to talk about it even before the fire, but Meyers didn’t know about werewolves, at least not at the time. He was just an insurance guy. He might have taken a bribe to look the other way or someone else messed with the evidence he was given, wouldn’t be the first time a hunter has managed to do that.”

“Will the Argents be able to make the connection?” Alan asked. “If Meyers acted on his own when he made the decision, they might not recognise the name. Kate was never one to be careful, I can’t imagine that she kept a record of everyone involved, especially if she didn’t speak to them.”

“Gerard might have.”

Laura had been raised on horror stories of Gerard Argent from the very moment she was old enough to start alpha training. Whilst the Argent family were traditionally matriarchal Gerard had taken over from his wife after she had died, both of their children too young to even be fully fledged hunters, and had spent the rest of his life finding loopholes in the Hunter’s Code to allow him to hunt whoever he wanted. He’d attacked Deucalian’s pack, left the man blinded, permanently, in what was supposed to be a peaceful meeting and had orchestrated another attack that left them fleeing into the preserves the night someone from another neighbouring pack was killed. Ennis’, Laura remembered vaguely. There was a lot going on back then and she’d only just been allowed to go to pack meetings. 

“We don’t know if Gerard was aware of it,” Alan told her. “He tries to avoid big spectacles, anything that would make more of an impact than a story on the local news. A massive house fire in the middle of the day, not much of his style.”

She nodded in agreement and looked back at the table, rubbing her eyes tiredly. The files contained every name that was ever connected to the fire, previously neatly kept in boxes in the attic, put there the day that they moved in and not moved until an hour before when Laura was sorting through it all. There had been a mushroom cloud of dust when she first opened them, making her cough violently. 

“There’s a lot of names here, Laur,” Derek told her darkly. “Is Peter going to go after all of them? And what about the ones who aren’t on official papers? Do we just wait to see who he attacks, or who the Argents go after?”

“We deal with the names we know first,” Laura told him firmly, “Then, we look into the others. There’s not a lot of options right now but we actually have a lead, so we need to look into it. We can’t do anything about the things we don’t know.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that there are a lot of names,” he continued. 

“Yes, but since we all have jobs, and Marin and I are both away until Monday, you will have a lot of time on your hands to go through them all and find out where they are. Anything more than two towns over, we can probably rule out. I don’t think Peter’s going to be leaving Beacon anytime soon.”

“So I have a homework assignment?”

“Yeah, due by 5PM on Monday. You can take the boxes back to your place when the car gets fixed, until then you can work on them here.”

He grumbled a bit but accepted, gathering up the sheets and folders closest to him. There was still some semblance of order on the table and sides but it wasn’t particularly clear, especially as it got closer and closer to midnight. There was still about two weeks until the next full moon, Laura could barely feel the pull of it even with the window open and allowing moonlight to come through, but every so often the sight of it unnerved her, putting her on edge. 

The fact that so much was going on combined with her going on a work trip, a work trip that was unfortunately completely necessary, and Marin needed to supervise an overnight field trip, was enough to give her a headache if she thought about it too hard. Laura chose not to think about it too hard. They had leads, they had names, they finally had a more concrete motive, and, even if it was only Derek who had the time to work through it all, because there was no way Laura was involving Scott in this mess, they still had one person doing it. And it would keep Derek out of harm’s way for a while, since the hunters had recognised him and still approached him.

“I’m going to head home,” Alan sighed after a few minutes of helping pack up. “I’ll call you guys if the sheriff lets me know anything more, but I doubt he will.”

“Thanks,” Laura replied. 

“Drive safe,” Marin called out as he made his way to the door.

“Will do.”

Derek was going upstairs, carrying three of the seven boxes, and Laura grabbed three more, leaving Marin to carry the last one. They left it all in the other spare bedroom, everyone in the house understanding that it wouldn’t be good for anyone for Derek to share a room with boxes full of nightmares and trauma, and went their separate ways, Laura giving Derek a brief kiss on the forehead before going into her own room.

“Bag all packed?” Laura asked, sliding into bed with Marin, entwining their legs together. Marin had showered just after Laura left, she could still smell the scent of her shampoo strongly, and was in one of Laura’s shirts and a well-worn pair of leggings that used to be black and now were a dark grey. She nodded slowly, eyes already closing. Laura grinned, kissing her nose affectionately and watching how it scrunched up slightly, before moving to rest in bed properly. 

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The world seemed a little bit more optimistic. They knew what Peter wanted, they had a vague idea of who he was going after, Scott was doing better. Laura was still holding out hope that the Peter problem and the hunter problem would cancel each other out, leaving out the rest of the town’s population and any other innocents who always suffered when things started to go wrong. If it was just the older Argent, and his daughter was still unaware of the supernatural world, they would know soon enough that Derek wasn’t the one going around biting people in the middle of the night.

Laura knew Derek could act recklessly sometimes but even he wasn’t reckless enough to bite a total stranger in the woods, and definitely not biting a teenager. 


	61. Magic Bullet Part One

There was a loud howl, jolting Scott out of bed, his heartbeat rapid as he scrambled to sit up right, sheets knotting around his legs, constricting him. As he finally pulled himself free, falling to the floor in his haste, he listened out again. The house was silent, thankfully, but there was something in the air that tasted of danger. Unlike his vague memories of Peter calling him into the woods and to the school bus, Scott was completely alert, completely awake, and he wondered if it was even Peter calling him.

In the howl, like it almost had a tone of voice, almost as if there was a voice there, there was the word, the  _ feeling _ , of pack, that whoever was calling him was pack, that they were connected, but the connection felt tense, one false move away from breaking.

It couldn’t have been Laura, she was away until the day after for work, so it only left Derek and Peter. Whilst Derek was still very intimidating to Scott, unsure whether Derek even liked him or not, Scott would prefer it if Derek was calling him instead of Peter. Scott would prefer it if there was anyone else calling him instead of Peter. But there was no danger in the howl, nothing that made Scott worry about losing control, about someone else taking over.

He grabbed a sweatshirt, pulling it over his head, and reached out blindly for his shoes in the dark. With Laura away and Derek unlikely to be calling out for Peter, Scott figured the other werewolf needed help in some way and he couldn’t go back to sleep knowing that. His mum was out cold, her breathing and heartbeat slow and even, as Scott crept through the house, not feeling safe enough to jump out of his window, not after last time. The door creaked loudly, echoing in the big empty house, but Melissa didn’t wake up. 

The night air was cold and even though Scott didn’t suffer from the temperature like he used to, it only added to his mounting dread for what was coming. There wasn’t much he could do, he didn’t know how to fight, Laura promised to teach him some basics when she got back, along with how to track, a skill he also needed at the moment, but the presence of two werewolves might be enough to scare off any surprise attack. 

He hoped.

After Meyers had died, Scott didn’t want to feel helpless anymore, he wanted to do  _ something _ to help people. Peter had dragged him out into the night, he could have done something then. It may not have been Peter calling him, but Scott knew there was someone out there and he wasn’t going to hold back again. Not if there was someone who needed him, or at least needed someone. 

Scott walked slightly away from the road, remembering the night he was bit when he had nearly been hit by a car, he wasn’t sure his werewolf healing would have kicked in quickly enough to save him from that, and well aware that there was still a curfew. It reduced the risk of bumping into teenagers walking back from a party, drunk or otherwise impaired, but not by much. The people of Beacon apparently didn’t pay much attention to curfews, given how many times Scott had to duck away to avoid being spotted. 

He was still thinking about the howl. 

There had been pain in it, Scott had realised, calling out for someone to listen, for someone to come and help, and there was something about it that didn’t feel like Peter. It didn’t make sense for someone to attempt to kill his niece, one of two living relatives left, just for power, and then to call out for help and for someone to listen. The only person Scott could think of calling out was Derek. 

A dark shadowy shape climbed over the top of a building in a more abandoned part of town, only street lights on, and a parked car in the middle of the road. Scott hid, peering around the corner to see the car. There was a loud bang, like a powerful gunshot, and he flinched back. A woman was shouting, presumably the shooter and he backed away, glancing around to see if he could find Derek or anyone else. 

  
  


<>

  
  


Laura woke up with a jolt, reaching out instinctively for Marin before remembering she was in a hotel room, miles and miles away from her wife. She felt cold, soaked in sweat, with adrenaline rushing through her veins, arm aching for a reason she couldn’t figure out. It hadn’t been a nightmare, they happened fairly frequently, especially if Marin wasn’t there, but Laura always knew when they happened, even if she couldn’t remember the events of the nightmare itself.

Her arm was fine, no sign of injuries, but the ache was still there, a ghost in her limb. For the briefest moment she feared that something had happened to Derek. Losing a packmate hurt like losing a limb, feeling something akin to phantom pain the same way that amputees did, but Laura was too familiar with that to confuse it with anything else for long. Derek wasn’t dead, she would have known from the very moment it had happened, would have woken up more suddenly, more fearful, more alone. 

Her phone had no new messages, showing the time to be around half one in the morning, no one texted her at that time unless there was something really wrong. No messages, at least not yet, meant that nothing was really wrong. 

She sat up slowly, pushing her hair out of her face. Laura knew she was going to get back to sleep after waking up like that and made her way to the shower. It was a half decent hotel room that she had been put in, with half decent water pressure and she stayed under it for far longer than she normally would in the morning. Washing her hair slowly and carefully, waiting for all of her tense muscles to relax again. 

It was half two when she came out again, in a new pair of leggings and a plain t-shirt, hair damp but no longer wet. Laura pulled out her laptop, glancing over the emails she had received the day before and not gotten round to replying to. She wouldn’t be replying to them at half two in the morning, she was trying to keep up the pretense that she was a functioning adult and being on her laptop at that time was fairly counter-intuitive to that. 

None of the emails were urgent, she would have answered them at the time if they were, and Laura found herself getting distracted.

She opened up the folders of pictures she kept on her laptop. Most were kept on a couple of memory sticks in a very protected, very fireproof safe with a few other important things that needed to be kept in a safe place. The ones that stayed on her laptop were either recent enough that she hadn’t transferred them onto a memory stick or some of the ones she wanted to look at a lot. 

The first picture was of her, Marin and Derek from Christmas, after they’d finally managed to convince him to wear the hideous Christmas jumper that they’d found for him. Alan had taken the picture immediately, worried that if he waited a second longer Derek would pull it off and the chance would be gone. Laura had sent it to both Alan and Derek with their thank you cards. Alan had framed his copy, kept in his house with a collection of other photos, and Laura knew Derek hadn’t thrown his out but he kept it very hidden. There were a few more from Christmas, from when Marin’s parents had visited, Alan appeared in a lot of those as well, and then some more from halloween. 

It was the first night they had chosen to stay in so Laura had gone all out decorating the front of the house and buying sweets for all of the children. All of the ingredients that had gone out of date, or no longer fit for purpose, that Marin had in her store of equipment had been used for decoration, after being checked that they were definitely not poisonous for anyone. There were some pictures of the house, with Laura standing in front of it proudly, and a couple of pictures from the movie night they’d had with Alan and Derek, Marin’s face buried into the crook of Laura’s neck, where it had remained most of the night. 

Marin was not a big fan of horror movies, especially to do with the supernatural. The irony was not lost on her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode is my favourite of season 1 because it had Scott doing the first steps of becoming a hero, helping Derek when it probably would have benefitted him to just let him die, so there won't be too much Laura but I've tried to adapt it as best I could whilst keeping my favourite parts in. Hope you enjoy


	62. Magic Bullet Part Two

Scott was tracking the shape of Peter, looking so much like he did that morning in the forest that it was difficult to imagine him looking human, and flinched away as he heard another loud gunshot. There was a thud from somewhere near him but his ears were ringing painfully, even louder than the effect of the school bell or coach’s whistle, and Scott couldn’t see if Peter had been hit, if anyone had been hit.

There was the faint smell of blood, it had been there when he had arrived, but it was too far away for him to work out who it was, if Scott even knew the person. His heartbeat was going unnaturally fast, even for a werewolf, and he was reminded of both nights in the woods, when Peter had attacked him, and when the hunters had attacked him. It was a feeling that told him, with no uncertainty, that if he didn’t move quickly and cleverly, he would die. Scott thought, also with no uncertainty, that he might be getting accustomed to the feeling and that was horrifying. 

The street was still quiet after the gunshots, none of the people in the surrounding houses waking up, no one, apparently, calling the police on the person shooting a gun in the middle of a suburban neighbourhood. A vehicle approached them in the dark, headlights bright and lighting up a woman. She had light hair, a dirty blonde colour, that was long and down and was dressed for the cold weather of Beacon in January, carrying a large looking gun in her arms as if it was second nature. Scott was fairly certain it might have been for her. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Chris Argent got out of the car, slamming the door loudly, angrily.

“Get in,” he said, aggressively, looking agitated. He was looking very confident despite facing a heavily armed woman more than prepared to shoot someone. 

“Not even ‘hello, nice to see you’?” the woman asked casually.

“All I’ve got at the moment is ‘please put the assault rifle away before someone notices’.”

“That’s the brother I love.”

Fear shot through Scott’s heart, recognition finally setting in.

It was one thing knowing that she was a hunter, dangerous enough if she was just a hunter, but being part of the Argent family made her so much worse. It also meant Allison was more likely to find out about werewolves, if there was another person in her house keeping secrets from her. Something would come out eventually. There was a Buddhist saying Scott could remember hearing once, maybe at the clinic, ‘three things cannot long be hidden: the sun, the moon and the truth’. The moon was currently out, the sun would only take a few more hours, and Scott was worried the truth for Allison wouldn’t be too far behind. 

“Chris, there were two of them,” she continued. Scott wasn’t sure if that meant she had spotted him as well or if Peter had brought Derek out as well. They may have even been talking about another werewolf, Laura had mentioned omegas passed through Beacon Hills sometimes, but he didn’t know.

“The rogue?” Chris asked. 

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I doubt the alpha’s brave enough to come out in the middle of the night to lead an attack. But one of them tried to kill me.”

A wave of protective anger came over Scott. Laura had been spending the past month or so training him with Deaton, doing her best to keep him out of the problems that Peter seemed desperate to drag everyone into. To hear anyone, especially a hunter, especially an Argent hunter, talk about Laura being reckless, as if she wanted to fight, as if she wanted more violence, felt wrong. The casualness the woman was talking about it all rankled Scott as well. Like his life was suddenly unworthy of any care because Peter had bit him one night. 

“One can lead us to the others. They can’t do that if they’re dead.”

“I can’t help kill any of them if one of them kills me first.”

“How long will it take?”

“I’d give him forty-eight hours,” she told him. “If that.”

He wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that but any form of time limit set by a hunter couldn’t be good. Scott started to creep away again, not wanting to be caught by someone comfortable with firing a gun so casually in a suburban area. He didn’t think she would need much evidence to decide she should step in. Not from what Laura had explained about their family. 

They got into the car, driving away in the direction of the Argent house, and Scott felt his fear level return back to normal. As normal as it had been since becoming a werewolf. With another glance around to make sure the coast was clear, unable to hear Derek or anyone else nearby, Scott began creeping back to his own house. 

It would be morning soon and his mum had an early shift, meaning she would check on him before leaving. If he wasn’t in bed or, at least, at home, she would freak out. Staying out late to go bowling with friends, and Scott was using that term loosely, was one thing, an acceptable thing to his mum, sneaking out in the middle of the night for reasons he couldn’t explain to her without lying or terrifying her, completely unacceptable. Scott was going to have to figure out a way to explain it all to her soon or Melissa would become suspicious. 

He resolved to text Laura and Deaton in the morning. They should know that another hunter was in town, another Argent, one of the people who had murdered the other Hales. Scott wasn’t sure how to explain that to them in a text without coming off as incredibly inconsiderate and uncaring. But an uncaring warning was better than no warning. 

His bed was cold when he got in, the sun just beginning to come up. Melissa hadn’t woken up yet but it would only be a little bit longer. Scott was still thinking over the conversation, unable to make sense of it. From how Deaton had explained it, werewolves couldn’t heal if there was something still in the wound, keeping it open. It was why hunters used crossbows, because the bolts stayed in the body longer and would be more dangerous than a knife wound. If someone had been shot, then the bullet could be pulled out, a horrifyingly painful sensation, Scott was sure, and then they would heal, no problems. 

When his alarm rang, Scott still hadn’t slept.

He’d feigned sleep when his mum came in to check on him, only poking her head through to check that he was still in bed, but that was the closest to rest he’d come since getting home. Something felt wrong, a gut feeling, and Scott just couldn’t shake it. He could barely eat his breakfast, feeling like a rock was sitting in his stomach, and ended up leaving the house earlier than he normally would because of it. 

Scott had texted Laura and Deaton the same message, feeling like that was the safest option, when he had been attempting to force feed himself his toast, writing and re-writing the short message almost a dozen times before just giving up and sending it. He didn’t have work tonight, instead meeting up with Allison which was a slightly terrifying prospect now that he knew who was in town, and, since Laura was away for another two days, he definitely didn’t have a session. 


	63. Magic Bullet Part Three

School was quiet when Scott arrived, locking his bike up by the rack like he always did. This time he didn’t have Jackson showing up to hit him with a car door which was nice. The morbid excitement about the bus attack had mostly quieted down since Meyers had died and several of the AP foreign language classes were on trips until the end of the week. Scott was grateful for all of it. 

He’d texted Laura and Deaton a warning, and he presumed they told everyone else who needed to know, only Mrs Morrell and Derek popped into his head but there might be more people like them in Beacon Hills that he didn’t know about. Scott wasn’t sure he wanted to know about them, it still messed with his head that a family of werewolves had lived in Beacon for generations without many people knowing. His mum had gone to highschool with some of the Hales and didn’t even notice. He didn’t know how they had managed that; everytime he moved it felt like he was a second away from revealing his new nature to the entire school.

Stiles was running late, the Jeep taking a while to start that morning, not unusual, and Scott settled into his seat in homeroom, hoping for just an easy day. His grades would appreciate an easy day. It wasn’t that he was failing, not yet, but they had slipped since becoming a werewolf and getting them back up was much harder than having them fall. 

“Who’s ready for an exciting day of school, huh?” coach exclaimed, walking into the classroom. A sea of dead and tired eyes stared back at him and he immediately deflated. “Yeah, didn’t think that would work. Just a couple of announcements and then you can just sorta … stew in your misery until first period.”

Coach read went through the register, only Stiles missing which the man barely took note of, it wasn’t difficult to get a good attendance with coach, and then some of the announcements, none of which had anything to do with Scott and also sounded suspiciously like coach had skipped out some of the longer details. The room dissolved into quiet conversation, no one with the energy to do anything more than that, and Scott checked his phone for messages.

There was one from Allison, asking to double check if he was coming over after school to study, one from Stiles saying the Jeep had managed to start up and he’d be at school in a few minutes, and one from Deaton saying he’d received the earlier text and asking him to be careful for the next few days until Laura got back to town, keeping his head down. Scott could happily do that for the rest of his life if it stopped his very heightened anxiety about everything. 

Somehow he doubted that was how it worked.

The bell rang the second before Stiles ran in through the door, meaning he had yet another absence mark because of his Jeep and they were off to first period. They had first period together, chemistry, and third period, history, as well as a shared free period near the end of the day, so usually whatever they wanted to catch up on during homeroom happened spread out through those lessons. 

“You alright? You look kinda tired,” Stiles said as they waited in chemistry for Harris to arrive. 

“Something happened again last night,” Scott sighed, rubbing his face. Stiles jumped to conclusions before Scott could begin to explain it.

“Peter? Did he drag you out again?”

“No, keep your voice down,” he hissed, panicked. It was unlikely that there would be a hunter actually in the school, for anyone to have any idea what the two of them were talking about. But paranoia was becoming a constant state of mind. “I wasn’t forced out but I heard howling in the middle of the night and I went to check what was happening. There’s a new hunter in town that the Argents know. Shot an assault rifle in the middle of the street.”

“An  _ assault rifle _ ?” Stiles gasped. He couldn’t tell if it was fear or excitement in his friend’s voice but Scott could hear the way his heartbeat shot up. “In the middle of the street? Where were you? There were a bunch of noise complaints last night.”

“I suppose that explains why you look tired,” Scott joked. “It was near the ice cream shop, down the … south road to it, I think. It was really early in the morning when I left and I was more worried about the hunter with a gun.”

“Fair. I’ll check the police reports when I get home.”

There was an argument in his head that told Scott to maybe warn his friend not to go through confidential police reports but whenever he voiced that argument, Stiles never listened. He didn’t listen to anyone who voiced those types of arguments against him. Harris walked inside and the entire class fell silent. No matter how excited or argumentative people were feeling, they went out of their way to not anger Harris. He was harsh with his punishments, sending people to the principal for something as little as talking a bit too loudly.

They worked through the class and separated for second period. Scott went to his own class, maths, trying to avoid Lydia the entire time, and Stiles went to his economics class. It was easy to forget about any werewolf problems when doing algebra, avoiding Lydia and blocking out the conversations going on in his classroom and the surrounding ones. Certain parts of the school had very thin walls. When they got into english, they went into their seats quickly, Stiles sat behind him near the back of the class. The teacher set them with their textbooks, a list of pages and exercises to work through, whilst she handed out the most recent tests. It gave them time to talk. 

“So if it wasn’t Peter calling you out last night,” Stiles said in a thankfully, hushed voice. “Then who did it?”

“He may have been the one howling, it might have just been an omega, it might have even been Derek, I just know it was someone,” Scott replied. “At least two, that’s what the new hunter said. And she didn’t think it was Laura and obviously it wasn’t ‘cause she’s out of town for a bit.”

“Why’s she out of town?”

“Work.”

“What sort of work?”

“I don’t know, whatever work adults with normal jobs have.”

Both of their dads were in law enforcement, Melissa was a nurse and neither of them were old enough to remember what Claudia’s job was like before she got sick enough to need to quit, meaning that their collective understanding of normal jobs was poor. They did have a very good collective understanding of the amount of laws Stiles broke when he snooped on his dad and all of the possible injuries that could occur from dangerous driving, courtesy of Melissa. 

“But we know that Peter killed the bus driver?”

“Probably.”

“Why did he do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think the hunters know that Peter killed the bus driver?”

“I don’t know,” Scott exclaimed, louder than he meant to, feeling anger flare up. It wasn’t like he was going to lose control, not in a yellow eyes, growing claws, fangs and hair kind of way, but his patience had snapped thin. He’d tried to pretend that he could ignore his werewolf problems at school, try and focus on classwork and getting his grades better before his mum could find out and worry even more about what was going on, but with every passing day it was becoming clearer and clearer that that might never happen.

The rest of the class stared at him in surprise before going back to their work. 

At that break in their conversation came, the teacher arrived with their tests. Scott didn’t see what Stiles got, and before he could ask, the teacher gave him his test. Written with a thick red pen, there was a large ‘C-’ and a note asking for him to stay after class to talk about it.

“Dude, you need to study more,” Stiles said in surprise. “That was a joke. Scott it’s one test, and you passed it. You’re gonna make it up. Do you want help studying?”

“No, I’m studying with Allison after school today,” he replied. That would help a bit, he was sure. 

“That’s my boy, could you-”

“We’re just studying,” Scott interrupted, smiling a bit to himself.

“Oh, come on,” Stiles continued. “I’m just saying, my ten year plan for winning over Lydia involved dealing with douchebag jocks like Jackson, not very nice new girls like Allison. If you could maybe suggest to her something that might give me a chance.”

“Not going to happen and, um, could you maybe stop with the questions, man.”

“Done. No more questions,” Stiles agreed. “No more talk about Peter or the hunters or Derek. Especially Derek, who still scares me.”

The tone was joking but Scott could smell the genuine fear on his friend, minute but unmistakably there, and he completely understood. Scott doubted Derek would go out of his way to put any of them in danger, not with Laura there to keep him in check, but something about the guy scared him too. Not just because of what happened on the first full moon, being lured out to the woods and attacked by hunters. 

Focusing back on his work, Scott managed to lose himself in the questions until the bell rang. At which point he remembered the test in his folder and the upcoming conversation. Stiles was gone to his next class quickly, the teacher strict about punctuality and already having one absence that day, and Scott waited for the room to clear out before going up to the desk. He didn’t want anyone else to hear the conversation.

“Scott, I was surprised to mark your most recent test,” she said. “You’re normally so on top of these things, and you seemed to be understanding the topic so far.”

“I know, I know, I’m really sorry. I’ve had some stuff going on and I’ve fallen a bit behind on my school stuff. I’m doing my best to catch up, I promise, but it’s just taking me a while,” he said, desperate for her to believe him. He really was trying his best but it was difficult to make notes when there was a voice in his head telling him to murder people. 

“Well, one test certainly isn’t indicative of your studies,” she replied kindly, “And I know you’ve just made first line, which is very impressive and a big time commitment. Do your best to make it up and, if by the end of the year your grade still isn’t where you want it to be, I can come up with an extra credit project you can do. And, remember, the school does have counsellors you can talk to.”

“Yeah, I’m, um, I see Mrs Morrell once a week. She’s away this week for the foreign languages trip, but I normally see her.”

“That’s good. Alright, take it easy on yourself and do your best. I’ll see you on Friday.”

“See you then.”


	64. Magic Bullet Part Four

After lunch, Scott went to his physics class, still trying to avoid Lydia who kept pointedly looking at him. His grade on the most recent physics test was a B- which wasn’t too bad, not like in history, and Scott had been doing well on all of the previous projects so it didn’t feel too bad. It let the knot in his stomach relax, helping him focus more. Fortunately, with the AP language classes away, a lot of people in the other AP classes weren’t there which meant there weren’t too many conversations going on in the class. Unfortunately, it meant that when the teacher announced partner work, midway through the lesson, Lydia bee-lined over to him since neither of them had partners.

“You’re going over Allison’s after school,” Lydia said bluntly. It wasn’t a question but it felt like she wanted him to answer her anyway.

“Yeah, we’re studying together. She’s still catching up on the stuff she missed last term and my grades are slipping a bit,” he replied. Scott wasn’t sure why he felt the need to explain their exact reasons to study together. He didn’t doubt that Lydia knew Allison was still catching up but there was no reason for her to care about his grades. 

“Is that all that’s happening?” she asked, going through their worksheet at a terrifying pace. Scott always forgot  _ exactly _ how smart Lydia was until the proof was in front of him, struggling to understand that a person could be so intelligent. He wondered why she didn’t skip a grade; sophomore classes, even if they were AP classes, must be mind-numbingly boring for someone like her. 

“Um, she said I could stay for dinner if it takes us too long,” Scott said, confused. Lydia hummed in acknowledgement. He scribbled over his page, trying to get through the initial questions. Thankfully physics was one of his few subjects that he was caught up on so it wasn’t being interrogated by Lydia, Scott probably wouldn’t struggle with it.

“You know, if you start failing classes, you won’t be allowed to play on the team,” Lydia said as he was checking over his work, making sure that he hadn’t missed any units on his answers or misread a question. Scott sighed tiredly at the reminder.

“Believe me, I know,” he replied, putting his pen down heavily. He rubbed over his face, pushing his hair out of his eyes. It was overdue for a cut, whenever he found the time for that amongst everything else that was going on. 

Lydia seemed surprised by his answer, concern apparent on her face for the briefest moment before her usual mask slammed back into place, and Scott wasn’t sure what to make of that. It wasn’t like Lydia was completely unfeeling, Scott didn’t think anyone was completely unfeeling, but she had no reason to care for him. Jackson, her close-friend and ex-boyfriend, openly and vocally despised him and saw him as a threat, so logically that meant she wouldn’t think particularly highly of him, even after they had sort of bonded after going bowling.

“Right, well,” she said almost uncertainly. “I wanted to make sure you knew. Because I don’t want the team to start to lose.”

Scott was about to tell her that he was sure the team could win without him since they had the entire year he was on the bench, ignoring how much it made his heart clench, but she was closely examining his half of the workout and he fell silent. Her critical eye studied everything quickly, cross-referencing it with her own work.

“You multiplied instead of divided at the end of question six,” Lydia told him as she stood up to hand in her own sheet to the teacher. Scott made the correction quickly and handed it in as well. If that was the only mistake she had found, he felt very confident in his work. 

“Thanks for that,” Scott told her when he sat back down. Lydia shrugged nonchalantly.

“It’s a partner project,” she said dismissively. “If you make a mistake, that reflects badly on me.”

He wasn’t sure that was the real reason but he decided to stay silent. If Lydia was tolerating him, even helping him, Scott wasn’t going to jeopardise that. Instead, he opened his textbook and began making notes on the assigned pages. It was extension work, their homework for the week, and the more he got through in class, the more time he had at home to work on other subjects, like history. By the time the bell rang, he only had two pages left and he was on his way to the library to meet with Stiles. Lydia was out of the room the second the bell had rung, her perfectly written and organised notes already finished and packed away.

“Hey, you alright, dude?” Stiles asked, catching up with him in the hallway. “You looked like you were gonna walk straight into the wall.”

“Stuck in my head,” Scott replied shrugging. He glanced around the hallway, surprised by how far he had walked without noticing, and turned back to face his friend. “Physics was … a lot.”

“Did Lydia give you any trouble?”

“No, she actually helped me. It was kinda weird.”

“Sounds it,” Stiles agreed, seeming equally perplexed.

They walked into the library, going to their normal seats in the back of the room. About half of the seats were taken, students talking and working quietly. Scott took a few moments to allow himself to adjust to the different sounds and scents that assaulted his senses. The library was one of the easier places in the school for him to be; people were quieter and the smell of books was always calming. He preferred spending his free periods there after his change. 

There was the sound of the door opening and shutting, Jackson and Danny coming into the library. Danny went straight over to the school computers, connecting one of them to his own laptop for a reason Scott wasn’t sure he could understand, whilst Jackson slowly walked to an empty table. Something about the way that the other boy walked put Scott on edge, making him study everything about Jackson the same way he would with a new animal at the clinic. His face was a little pale, he looked flushed, and his heartbeat was very fast despite only sitting down. 

“Does Jackson look a little off to you,” he asked. Stiles glanced up and narrowed his eyes before shrugging dismissively.

“Maybe he’s got the flu or something. I doubt he would be at school if there was anything seriously wrong with him. I mean, you know what his parents are like, my dad’s complained about them enough,” Stiles replied, planning out his history essay.

It was a reasonable explanation with very little to disprove it but Scott had a gut feeling there was more to the problem than just the flu. He couldn’t place it but there was a scent in the air that was telling him to run, that danger was coming. Mingled with it was something that Scott felt that he should recognise, like it was just on the tip of his tongue. Trying to focus on his homework, the history homework he needed to do well to boost his grade after the lesson he’d had, wasn’t enough to distract him from the growing sense that things were going wrong. 

“Is there a reason that we have to do a Shakespeare play every year?” Stiles complained a few minutes later. “Like, I get that he was a great writer and everything but half of the book is explaining what the other half of the book means and we’re somehow supposed to write a whole bunch of essays about it?”

“There’s a reason he’s famous, right?” Scott replied. “People really like his play. And it’s probably easy to enjoy a play when you understand it and most of the people back then could understand it.”

“Yeah, but we don’t understand them now,” he grumbled. “Seriously, what sort of title is ‘Much Ado About Nothing’? What does ‘ado’ even mean?”

“It’s like getting annoyed about something,” he explained. “It means getting annoyed about nothing. That’s the title because that’s the plot of the play.”

“Nerd,” Stiles told him with no malice, grinning.

When the bell rang, most of the students in the library got up to leave, packing up their things and louder conversations breaking out immediately. Scott said goodbye to Stiles, the two of them promising to text later like they usually did, and made his way to the bike rack. He was still concerned about whatever was going on with Jackson but now he was thinking about the path to Allison’s house and what homework they should start on and what he needed to do at work tomorrow. Maybe he would ask Deaton if there were any possible supernatural illnesses that someone normal could catch. If Jackson was so determined to learn about werewolves, he could have come into contact with something dangerous and not even realise it. 

Scott stopped that trail of thought before it could spiral out of control.


	65. Magic Bullet Part Five

“Hey stranger,” Laura greeted happily when Marin’s face appeared on the screen, the video call finally connecting. “Long time, no see.”

“Missed you too,” Marin replied, laughing.

“You feeling alright? Kids aren’t being too difficult?”

“That’s fine. Most of them are just thrilled to have a week off school so they’re happy to do what they’re told,” she explained. “And it’s nice having French without teenagers butchering it.”

Laura had always been terrible at languages, she knew Spanish only because she’d been speaking it since birth and without frequent practice her accent quickly became very bad. Derek was smug about how well he spoke it and it was aggravating every time. She’d spent about two months with Marin’s dad, Marc, her now father-in-law, in high school trying to learn French, asking one of the teachers to help her as well, before being very politely told to stop. Laura was impressed they had managed to last so long listening to her wreck every word in the language. Marin had very much appreciated the effort but told her not to worry about it after hearing a couple of sentences. 

“What about you? Getting that text from Scott this morning couldn’t have been fun.”

“It definitely wasn’t fun,” Laura said. “But we should always look on the bright side, and one big bright side is that Peter can’t force Scott into the woods in the middle of the night anymore. God, even saying it sounds bad.”

“Yeah, it’s not good.”

Marin was fiddling with the hem of her shirt, something she normally did without even noticing, and Laura felt an urge to reach out and hold her hands. The distance between them was almost painful. She had always been a tactile person, her family had all been tactile people, even Derek was when he put down some of his walls, and being apart from Marin was always difficult. With all of her stress about the situation made her crave Marin’s touch even more.

“Did you get any sleep again after you woke up?”

“A couple of hours,” Laura shrugged. “Not much, but I’m functioning. And I might be able to come back a day or so early, which will be good. I want to keep an eye on Derek, especially if there are new hunters in town. Maybe help him make a friend, so he has someone else to talk to.”

She fell quiet for a little while, studying Marin on her laptop screen. It was difficult to focus on the negative things when her wife was there, even if she was  _ there _ , and Laura supposed that that might be a bad thing to some people, a distraction from serious problems they needed to solve. But she forgot all about her concerns about what other people thought when Marin smiled at her or laughed. And with Marin, she always thought better and Marin had a lifetime of druid training at her disposal, even if Laura managed to become completely useless. Laura trusted her with everything.

“I miss you,” she said. “And I know it’s been about three days but, I miss you. A lot.”

“I miss you too, Laur. And it’s just until this weekend, remember. This is the only school trip I’m on this year,” Marin told her. “It’s just a couple more days and we’ve already done that. We’ll be home and together soon. Now, come on, tell me about how your case is going, if you’re going to be home early.”

“Well, we’ve got a ton of evidence against the guy, he might as well have signed a confession and filmed himself doing it,” she began. It always helped to talk to someone about a problem because it helped your brain understand it in a different way, something that Laura learned in university, but sometimes talking about a problem with Marin meant that they got about halfway through before they distracted each other and went off on a completely unrelated tangent. It was good for distracting themselves from real problems when they couldn’t do anything about them. “What we’re focusing on is proving his alibi wrong, which the police have partially done. If we can prove he was lying about it in court in his earlier hearing, then he’s going away for sure.”

“That sounds promising,” Marin replied. “Better than your last case in New York.”

“I’m trying to repress the memory of that case,” she groaned, massaging her temples. “I don’t think I’ve ever drank so much coffee in my life. Not even to get me through finals.”

“I thought you were going to start actually vibrating at any moment when I visited you.”

“It felt like I was actually vibrating, but that might have just been my hands shaking from caffeine,” Laura joked. “If I was human, my heart probably would have given out.”

“Mrs Morrell!” a teenager’s voice called out on the other end of the laptop and Marin glanced over to her door, sighing. 

“I’ve got to go, babe,” she said, standing up. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Mar.”

Laura blew a kiss to the screen, waiting to see Marin’s reaction before cutting off the call, and sat back in her chair. Thousands of miles away from home, Laura found herself feeling very lonely. She missed her pack, as small as it was, and she missed Marin and Alan, and she missed her colleagues and neighbours, even if she didn’t like all of them all the time. Picking up her phone, Laura checked for any new messages.

She’d texted Derek when she woke up the second time, asking if he was okay and if he’d noticed anything out of the ordinary in the night. He told her around lunchtime that he was fine and hadn’t noticed anything, which felt like a lie but she didn’t have any proof of that. If Scott had heard the howls at night, then Derek, who never seemed to sleep at night, definitely heard the howls. But there wasn’t anything she could do in New York, she’d just need to wait until she could get back home and learn the truth. 

Laura wasn’t sure why Derek would be lying about not noticing the howls and hunters but if he wasn’t talking to her then she couldn’t find out.

She checked the time on the digital clock of her hotel room. 3:34PM. The school day would be over; Scott would be leaving by now. It wouldn’t be interrupting anything if she texted him, checking up on him after a fairly traumatic night that they still had no answers for. Laura wrote out a couple of drafts of the text, not wanting to come off as overbearing or controlling, but finally deciding on something simple. 

_ Hi. Just wanted to check on how you are doing after last night. I’ll be back in Beacon soon and we can talk about it in a session then. Have a good day. _

The message was sent with a little whooshing noise and Laura tried to focus back on her work. It was an easy case, she almost felt sorry for the lawyer defending the guy, but it still involved pages and pages of paperwork that she had to work through. Everyone that talked about law as a career path talked about how much reading you had to do, and they were right, but they rarely mentioned the sheer volume of paperwork that needed to be filled out with every case. 

A few minutes later she got a message back from Scott.

_ Hi. I’m doing alright for now. I’m going over Allison’s house to study today. Hope New York is good and that your case is going well. I’ll see you when you get back. _

The idea of Scott going to the Argents’ house, of him staying inside there, was terrifying, but it probably wasn’t going to be what they expected the actions of a newly bitten beta to be. It would be a little too ridiculous, though that phrase was beginning to describe her life, for the Argents to immediately suspect one of the first friends that their daughter invited over. Scott would probably be safe in plain sight for a while. 

And Laura would be there when he needed something else to stay safe. 


	66. Magic Bullet Part Six

A text came through from Laura as Scott was leaving the school, making him pause. She was asking him how he was after the night before which was a more than reasonable question after seeing a hunter walk around a neighbourhood yelling and firing a gun into the sky. But in comparison to the night of the full moon when a hunter, when  _ Allison’s dad _ , shot him in the arm with a crossbow, pinning him to a tree, it wasn’t too bad. That wasn’t the healthiest way to look at it, Scot was sure, and he would need to talk to Mrs Morrell about it when she got back. 

_ Hi. I’m going alright for now. I’m going over Allison’s house to study today. Hope New York is good and that your case is going well. I’ll see you when you get back.  _

He reached his bike and began taking off the padlock. Stiles had joked that, with his new supernatural hearing, he would make an amazing lockpick and it was somewhat comforting to know that if he lost the key he would still be able to get to his bike. Just as he was taking it off, he heard a row of cars honking loudly, still in the car park. It wasn’t unusual for it to be busy right as the bell rang, since the majority of the school were leaving at the exact same time, but rarely did everyone get stuck in the middle. 

Scott looked over to see what had caused the line and saw Stiles’ Jeep stopped in front of someone who was standing in the middle of the road. Derek. It was Derek, looking pale and weak, in front of Stiles, in front of the school, right when and where people could see him. Panic rose up in him, Derek wouldn’t be at the school for no reason and he did look unwell, reminding Scott uncomfortably of how Jackson looked almost in pain earlier in the library. 

“No, no, no, no,” he muttered to himself. “Not here.”

Rushing over, Scott made it to the Jeep just as Derek collapsed to the ground, drawing even more looks. Cars were continuing to honk, the line behind Stiles getting longer and longer and Scott could almost feel the irritation coming off of everyone. He couldn’t blame them, though that empathy faded away when he caught sight of Derek lying on the floor.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asked, kneeling in front of Derek. There was the faint smell of death lingering on him which was not at all reassuring.

“I was shot,” Derek told him, voice tight with pain.

“He’s not looking so good, dude,” Stiles added nervously.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Scott asked. Wasn’t that why hunters used crossbows? Because bullets either left the body or could be pulled out easier than crossbow bolts. Scott couldn’t see anything that could resemble a crossbow bolt or anything else sticking out of Derek. 

“I can’t. It was a different type of bullet.”

“A silver bullet?” Stiles asked excitedly. Scott made a mental note to explain the Argents in more detail to his friend when it no longer looked like Derek was about to die with only them to help him.

“No, you idiot,” Derek grumbled.

Something clicked in Scott’s head. The gunshots in the night, the hunters talking, the countdown. Derek  _ had _ been there the night before, presumably following Peter as well, and he had been the one who had been shot. With a special kind of bullet, something that only a hunter would have. 

“That’s what she meant when she said you had forty-eight hours,” he said quietly. It was all falling into place, forming a horrible, dangerous picture. 

“What?” Derek asked, sounding surprised. “Who said forty-eight hours?”

“The one who shot you,” Scott replied. He smelled a wave of cold fear and something that seemed like a mix of shame and guilt crash through Derek and his eyes flashed a bright blue. He closed them tightly as soon as it happened and groaned. When Derek opened them again, the glow was flickering, becoming more and more obvious. “What are you doing? Stop that.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I can’t.”

Scott wasn’t quite sure why but he’d assumed that once a werewolf had full control, they always had it. It was terrifying to see how Derek was struggling. He doubted that the older werewolf would completely lose it and try to kill everyone, he doubted that Derek had the strength to manage that from how he looked, but if the wrong people saw his glowing blue eyes, the entire school would know within the hour. And Jackson would figure it all out for sure and hunters would be going after them all.

He grasped Derek’s hand tightly, feeling some of the pain shoot through his veins and some of the tension leaked out of him along with it.

“Derek, get up,” Scott told him seriously, helping to lift him to his feet. A million thoughts were racing through his head. He didn’t know what type of bullet Derek had been shot with, he didn’t understand anything that was happening with Derek, he didn’t even know where Derek could go. Deaton had appointments until five so he couldn’t go to the clinic right away, not without drawing a lot of attention and they were already doing that. If Derek could last until then … The hunter had said he had forty-eight hours, but that was only the best case scenario and it had already been over twelve.

Cars were continuing to honk as he and Stiles carried Derek into the Jeep, strapping him carefully into the passenger seat. The way that he protected his left arm from movement made Scott assume that was where the injury was. He didn’t think the car park was the appropriate place to start checking him over, however, not with how many people were staring. At least the buses were beginning to leave, which meant that some of the people watching would be gone. 

“I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used,” Derek said slowly, eyes focusing and unfocusing. Something Deaton had told him in a session about the number of strains of wolfsbane popped into his head but Scott pushed it away. A reminder of how bad Derek’s chances were wouldn’t help him. 

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“She’s an Argent,” he replied. “She’s with them.”

“Allison doesn’t know anything,” Scott pointed out. He sighed. “But I’ll try something and I’ll, uh, I’ll text Deaton and tell him you’ve been hurt and he can do … he can do something, alright?”

“Don’t tell Laura.”

“I can’t lie to her about her brother being shot!”

“Then don’t say anything.”

Stiles climbed into the driver’s seat as Scott realised Allison was walking over to them. He decided to put that debate on hold since they definitely didn’t have the time for it. It felt a little bit like a strange version of ‘don’t tell mum’ and Scott didn’t want to become involved in that. But even if he told Laura right away, it would still be a five hour flight to get back, and that was if she could leave immediately. Telling Laura before they had a plan would just worry her for no reason. 

“Could you take him back to his place?” Scott asked his friend. “I’ll explain it all to Deaton, but he needs to get out of here.”

“I hate you for this so much,” Stiles replied. Scott would feel the same way in his position. It wasn’t an enviable situation to be in, though the idea of searching through the Argent house didn’t exactly fill him with joy.

The Jeep pulled away, allowing room for the other cars to leave. Scott tried to figure out what to tell Deaton. ‘Hi, Derek’s been shot and is probably dying so Stiles is driving him home and I’m going to look for the bullet at the Argents’ house. Could you please help him whilst I do that? Thanks’. It sounded ridiculous, dangerous and stupid, and Scott hadn’t even thought about how to explain that Derek didn’t want Laura to find out. Allison reached him, breaking him out of his thoughts. He had something else to explain away now. 

“Hey, what was he doing here?”


	67. Magic Bullet Part Seven

“Stiles was just, um, giving him a ride,” Scott managed to tell her awkwardly as the Jeep sped away. Even though it was the truth, it still felt like he was telling an unconvincing lie. “Long story.”

“I thought you said you weren’t friends with him, that you just know each other because he’s married to your boss’ sister,” Allison continued, confused. Scott couldn’t blame her.

“He forgot Mrs Morrell is away with the AP languages trip; he hurt his ankle and was going to ask for a lift home from her,” he explained, feeling like he was clutching at straws. “Stiles is taking him home instead.”

“Wouldn’t it be less awkward if you took him, since you’re the one that knows him?”

“Yeah, but we made plans to study together today. And, besides, I think Derek would look pretty silly trying to cling onto my bike if I took him home,” Scott said. His weak attempt at a joke partially landed which was the most success he was going to get out of it. “So, I’ll meet you at your place?”

“Yeah.”

Scott gave her one last smile before rushing back over to his bike. The cars that had been in the queue were beginning to leave the car park which meant that there were fewer prying eyes. No one was looking at him, the lacrosse game was the first time most of the other students had actually seen him, and Scott had never been so grateful for the apathy of teenagers. He grabbed his helmet and began putting it on before discovering there actually  _ was _ someone watching him. 

Jackson. Of course it was Jackson.

He froze as the other boy stared at him, looking even more tired and sickly than he had before, but after a few moments, once Jackson knew for sure he had been seen by Scott, he turned away and got into his car. Scott put his helmet on quickly, doing up the straps as he began to leave the car park. There was so much to think about as he turned onto the road. He needed to talk to Deaton, needed to explain what was going on with Derek, needed to get to Allison’s house, soon, needed to somehow find the specific type of bullet, needed to figure out how to tell Laura what had happened.

Going down a corner that he knew led to a quiet alleyway with only one way in, hidden from the rest of the street. Scott jumped off his bike and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts as he panted for breath. If he remembered the timetable correctly, Deaton would be between patients for the next few minutes. Hitting the call button, Scott listened to two rings before hearing him pick up. 

“Scott, is everything okay? Your breathing sounds strange, are you having an asthma attack?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Um, Derek was at the school just now, in the car park. He was out last night, where the new hunter was. He got shot with a wolfsbane bullet. The hunter said he had forty-eight hours at most and it’s already been twelve hours. Stiles is, uh, Stiles is taking Derek back to his place and I’m going to try and find the bullet but I just … I don’t know what to do with it all.”

He was rambling, it would be impressive if Deaton was able to get anything of worth from it, but Scott’s thoughts were racing and mixing together and he couldn’t organise them any better. There was a beat of silence where Deaton processed everything he had heard and Scott was beginning to catch his breath. It made it easier to think clearly. He still couldn’t come up with a solution. 

“Why is Derek going to his apartment and not the clinic? I know it’s closer to the school but you know about the wolfsbane treatments I have at the clinic; we’ve gone through them together.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got patients until five and if Derek showed up bleeding and struggling with his control then people will talk and hunters might come for you,” Scott explained hurriedly. “So whilst you finish with them, I can find the bullet.”

“Where are you going to find the bullet?”

“I’m studying with Allison at her house. I can look for it there, Derek seemed to think that’s where it’s going to be.”

“No, Scott.” Deaton’s voice was suddenly very serious and he stood up straighter out of reflex, even though he knew no one could see him. “Going over Allison’s house as her friend is fine, we’re not going to stop you from doing that, but actively looking for danger in a hunter’s house is too dangerous.”

“Derek could die if I don’t!”

“Do you know where he was shot?”

“I think his arm, he was holding it really carefully when I saw him.”

“Okay, that means we have other options, you won’t need to get the bullet so long as it doesn’t spread too fast.”

“What’s the other option?” Scott asked hopefully. If there was something that Deaton could do to save Derek without Scott having to snoop through a hunter’s house that would be a well-needed miracle. “Do you need me to do or get you anything?”

“I can cut off his arm-”

“I’ll get the bullet,” he interrupted bluntly. Scott had thought he meant a difficult to take medication that would stop the poison, not amputation. “Allison said her parents won’t be home until late this evening, there won’t be anyone else there to catch me. I can get the bullet, I promise.”

“Scott, it’s dangerous.”

“So’s amputation,” he argued, “And we don’t know how far the poison’s spread! What if you cut his arm off and he still needs the bullet?”

He knew that Deaton understood his logic, the man was a very good vet and, from what Scott knew of it, a very good druid, so he knew that that wasn’t the problem. He wasn’t sure what else it could be; Scott wasn’t putting himself in too much danger since Allison’s parents weren’t home and if Derek was in his apartment, or at least on the way to his apartment, then there were no immediate external threats.

“Alright,” he gave in. “Just … be careful, Scott. Don’t do anything too reckless in there. Did Laura tell you anything when she found out?”

“Derek didn’t want to tell her.”

There was another beat.

“Oh, god,” Deaton sighed. “I know Laura said to listen to Derek but … don’t. School and lacrosse, his advice might be good. But with this … I’ll talk to Laura and tell her everything. Be safe. Can you tell me that you’re going to try and be safe?”

“I promise I’ll try.”

Scott ended the call and thought over everything. The idea of Deaton having to cut off Derek’s arm was traumatic for so many reasons. Stiles, who was so terrified of needles that he couldn’t even be in the same room as them and was stuck with Derek, would probably pass out at the sight of a sawn off arm. He wasn’t sure how they would respond to Derek losing one of his arms, he would have so many more problems on top of the hunters and everything else to do with them. 

He  _ had _ to find the bullet.

Climbing back onto his bike, he pedalled the way to Allison’s house. He was going too fast, faster than a human could go, but he was desperate to get there. Allison would be waiting for him and Derek needed the bullet to save his life, and his arm. Cars were going past him, only slightly faster than him and he approached the familiar neighbourhood. Allison was just pulling into the driveway as he saw the house. He reached the house and jumped off the bike. She looked surprised to see him. 

“Hey,” he said, panting a little bit, feeling a bit windblown.

“Hey,” she replied. “How did you … You got here just after I did.”

“Oh, yeah. I took a shortcut. A really short shortcut.”

It was a pathetic lie but Allison was new to town and probably didn’t know about the shortcuts around Beacon. He did take a couple of shortcuts, those were the paths around the roads that he knew he could take to get directly to Allison’s house, but werewolf speed had helped quite a bit. They started to walk towards the house and Scott felt his nerves increase. No other cars were on the drive, her parents were definitely not home.

“What’s going on with you today? You are acting all kinds of bizarre.”

“I’m just stressing about classes. I’m not doing as good this year.”

“Not doing as well,” she corrected and he chuckled.

“See? Exactly.”

“Maybe we should start with English.”


	68. Magic Bullet Part Eight

He paused before crossing the threshold, fear suddenly taking over, and stared into the house. It was a very big house, well-decorated, but it didn’t look very lived in. Only three people there would probably have that effect. Allison noticed him waiting, turning around to check that he was alright. Deaton’s words were racing through Scott’s head and he almost didn’t notice Allison talking to him.

“Don’t worry. Nobody’s gonna be home for hours. Come on.”

“Okay,” Scott agreed.

Stepping into the house felt both overwhelming and anti-climatic. No hunters jumped out of hidden corners to kill him, no crossbow bolts being fired, no one accusing him of being a monster. Allison shut the door behind him and began walking up the nearest staircase. Her footsteps were quick and light and the stairs didn’t even creak as they walked, the lack of noise unsettled Scott. It made him worry that someone could creep up on him and he wouldn’t be able to hear them, wouldn’t be able to defend himself. 

“I’m still unpacking,” she told him as they walked into her room. 

The room was full of boxes, some of them empty, some of them half unpacked and some of them didn’t even look open, and there were a collection of paint swatches on the walls. Scott had never moved house before, the most he’d done was bringing some of his clothes and books with him in the brief time he lived with his dad, but it looked like they’d just arrived a few days ago. That didn't quite match up with how long they had actually been in Beacon.

“Uh, haven't you been here for, like, over a month?”

“I’m taking my time.”

Scott awkwardly sat on the bed, putting his bag down and beginning to pull out his textbooks and folders. He mentally went over what homework and studying he was caught up on and what he was behind on. History was stuck in his mind, his talk with the teacher stuck in his brain, but he was struggling with keeping up with the amount of work their English teacher was setting them.

“So, I figured that we’d start with history,” he said, taking off his hoodie. Allison sat next to him, getting out her own textbooks. “How are your classes going?”

“I’m figuring them out,” she sighed. “I’ve changed schools a lot over the years, I sort of know the drill by now.”

“Must be lonely,” Scott commented. 

“A bit,” she replied, shrugging. “But my parents said we’ll be staying here for at least the rest of the school year, which is a lot longer than I usually get.”

For a moment, Scott was glad that Allison would be more settled and able to make friends and was selfishly happy that she was staying in Beacon and they could continue to be friends. Hunters, if they followed their code, couldn’t go after Laura and Derek so long as they didn’t hurt or bite anyone. Peter was ‘fair game’ for them since he was an obvious threat, and Scott tried not to feel relieved about that, and Laura said she doubted they knew much at all about Scott. If they were staying in Beacon for a long time, they were probably planning on waiting to see if they would slip up.

He still wasn’t sure how to find the bullet for Derek but he could keep himself calm after learning something new about their plans. 

“What topic is your class on?” Allison asked him, pulling out a half-finished essay from her folder. “We’ve just started on the Pretenders, apparently our class is a little behind, which we’re constantly being reminded of.”

“About halfway through Edward VI,” Scott replied. “I didn’t do so great on the last test we had, barely passed.”

“A pass is a pass,” she told him reassuringly. “And it’s easier to make up a low pass than a fail. Plus, it’s only one test. You can make that up, no problem.”

“Stiles said about the same thing when I got the test back.”

They began working through their notes, Scott having a slight advantage of the work they’d done in class but because of his lack of study they were about on the same level. He went through his new test, covered in more critical red than made him comfortable, and went over what he’d got wrong. Thankfully, the sections he’d actually been able to study for he’d barely dropped a mark in whilst the parts that he’d failed were the sections he hadn’t yet revised.

His phone began to buzz, still in the pocket of his hoodie, and it broke his concentration. Allison looked up from her own work. 

“Are you gonna answer it?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s probably just Stiles. I’ll just need a sec.”

The call had cut out by the time Scott reached his phone but a text had come through from him the second the phone stopped buzzing. 

_ Did you find it yet? _

_ Need more time. _

It wasn’t going to make Stiles happy to hear that, stuck with a miserable Derek, a man who wasn’t happy ever, as far as Scott had seen, who might die very, very soon. But Deaton would be there soon, hopefully, and, with any luck, having an adult who understood what was going on might help calm down his friend. Or, at the very least, Derek wouldn’t seem too threatening. Scott could still uncomfortably remember the wave of fear he’d smelled on Stiles when they’d talked about him earlier in the day. 

“Is he alright?” Allison asked, looking over to him. “You guys are practically attached at the hip when we’re at school; it’s not some form of separation anxiety, is it?”

“Uh, no, he was just checking what days I’m working this week,” he said. 

As he was putting his phone away, he caught sight of a familiar face in a partially hidden photograph in the box beside Allison’s bed. Scott picked it up. Her dad was in the picture, not quite smiling but not unhappy, with his arm around a widely smiling blonde woman. She was the woman from the night before, some instinct inside him telling him that, and Scott realised that he was holding proof in his hands that Allison definitely had a link to the hunter who had shot Derek. 

  
  


<>

  
  


Laura had just gotten into her hotel room, not even sitting down, before her phone began to ring with Alan’s picture flashing up on the screen. She tossed her bag onto her bed and answered it, sitting down at the small table with her feet.

“Hey, Alan. How’s it going back home?”

“Derek got shot last night.”

“What? He told me that he’s fine and that he wasn’t even out last night! How could he be shot?”

She knew that it meant Derek was just lying to her and it wasn’t the first time that he had lied about being okay when he wasn’t but this was a severe extreme. Laura took a moment to even out her breathing, not wanting to snap at Alan, and thought it over. If it was a normal bullet, which some hunters did use, Derek would be more than healed by now and that meant it was a wolfsbane bullet.

Deadly, that meant.

“A hunter shot him. I’m on the way to his place now, my last patient just cancelled, but, according to Scott, he’s only got forty-eight hours without a cure,” Alan explained to her. “I’ll see if I can treat it but for them to be so certain about such a short timeframe, I won’t be able to do much without the specific strain of wolfsbane.”

“Alright, thanks. Um, I’m on the next flight out but that’s not leaving until ten tomorrow. Do you need me to do anything from here?”

“No, I just thought you should know what’s going on with your brother,” he said. “I assume you know that Scott’s going over to Allison’s house today?”

“Yeah, why?” she asked before understanding slammed into her. “Oh, god. He’s looking for the bullet, isn’t he? A house full of hunters and he’s looking for a poison bullet. Why? Did Derek tell him to do it?”

“Yes, he did. And since the only option without a cure is to cut off Derek’s arm, there’s no way we can convince him not to do it.”

There was easily identifiable fear in Alan’s voice as he explained it. Laura doubted that Scott would do anything reckless whilst in the house of the man that shot him in the arm with a crossbow bolt, pinning him to a tree, in the middle of the night, but it was still a worrying idea and any number of things could go fatally wrong. On top of that, Alan loved Scott like a son and it was probably difficult for him to watch a person he loved get dragged into a world that had killed other people that he loved.

“Alright, well, he won’t be as stupid as Derek is being,” Laura said, trying to soften her voice. “I’m sure he’ll be okay, Alan. He’s been handling things so well so far.”

“I know,” Alan said, sounding defeated. “And I know that this is the best option for the situation but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s awful.”

“No, it’s really awful,” she agreed. Laura could hear the sound of a car door opening and closing, meaning that Alan was at Derek’s place. “I assume the Argents at home. Actually, I hope the Argents aren’t home. Do you know if they’re home?”

“Scott says they’re out for most of the evening so it’s just him and Allison,” he replied, sounding like he was walking. “But it will be harder to sneak away if they’re the only two people in the house.”

“One problem at a time,” she reassured. “A teenager not in the know thinking that Scott’s a bit odd is a lot less dangerous than sneaking around a family of hunters.”

“He’s just always in danger now.”

Even more fear and vulnerability was in his voice now and Laura’s heart went out to him. Scott hadn’t been a major part of Laura’s life two months ago and he had already been bitten by the time they met. All of the changes to Scott’s life were happening when they met, it wasn’t a change to how Laura saw him. For Alan, he’d known Scott for well over a year, teaching him to be a vet assistant, guiding him in becoming a vet when he’s older, something that even now Scott was about. 

“Yeah, but we’re here to keep him as safe as we can.”


	69. Magic Bullet Part Nine

It felt dangerous to be even holding the picture, somehow, as if she was going to jump out of the frame and try and kill him. Allison shifted to be next to him and they were both sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at the picture. Scott knew he needed to say something soon or it was going to be weird. 

“Who’s this?”

“That’s my dad’s sister, Kate. Except she’s more like my sister. She got here last night,” Allison explained.

“Uh, last night?”

“Yep, she had some car trouble, I guess,” Allison said, sounding a little doubtful. She brightened up again a moment later and Scott wondered if he’d imagined it. 

“She looks familiar.”

“Mmm. She actually used to live in Beacon Hills. Maybe you saw her once,” she suggested. The idea was terrifying. The fact that a person who hunted down and murdered people just walked around Beacon Hills, the rest of the population unaware, left a very bad taste in his mouth. “It was about ten years ago, I’m not surprised you wouldn’t remember her much.”

“Maybe,” Scott agreed, shrugging. He put the picture down and saw something else inside the box. Anything to distract him from what he’d just learned, although the news that the bullet was very likely to be inside the house wasn’t all bad. They were pages of photographs, the paper glossy, the pictures black and white. “Did you take these?”

“Back when I thought I was a photographer,” Allison chuckled self-deprecatingly. 

He found a full-sized photograph, also black and white and looking blurred in an artistic way. Scott studied it for a moment. There were even more photographs underneath, all greyscale but in different styles. He flicked through them appreciatively. “They’re good.”

“No, they’re not,” Allison said, pulling the pictures away. As untrue as her statement was, Scott could understand that she might want to keep them private. Art was very personal, after all. “I stopped when I realised I was terrible at it.”

_ That _ he didn’t understand.

“Framing’s off, bad lighting,” she continued. “Believe me. Not good.”

If she really thought her photography was that bad, and could pick out technical flaws at just a glance, Scott wasn’t going to push it any further. Inside the box were more sheets of paper, a folder marked poetry that he knew not to touch, and a few other bits and pieces that looked like they belonged to various hobbies. He picked out some paintings. They weren’t as good as the photographs but they weren’t bad, certainly better than his and Stiles’ collaborative work from last term’s art project. They barely passed that class. 

“That was when I thought I was into painting. Uh, terrible too,” she explained. Their gaze fell on the folder, the title obviously labelled in curly letters. “That’s when I tried poetry. Terrible doesn’t even come close to describing that.”

“What are you good at?” Scott asked, hoping there was something she enjoyed. Obviously he knew that just because she was good at something didn’t mean that she enjoyed it, he was good at maths, but Allison seemed to hate the hobbies she was bad at and he didn’t want to embarrass her. 

“I’m gonna show you if you promise not to laugh,” she told him after a moment’s hesitation, smiling shyly. She got up from the bed suddenly and started to walk out of the room. Scott followed her hurriedly. “It’s down in the garage, in storage, basically.”

They left her room and went back down the stairs, Scott suddenly on high alert for another possible attack and passed through the kitchen. Allison walked through a door and they were both in the garage. It smelled very strongly of oiled machinery, to the point where he thought even Allison would be able to smell it.

“I was nationally ranked as a kid,” she began and that piqued his interest. “And my dad really wanted me to go on but, I don’t know, I didn’t like it.”

It didn’t quite fit what Scott was hoping for but at least she was looking a little bit happier about it. There were boxes all over the garage, labelled in black marker, and he tried to work out where the smell was coming from. It definitely wasn’t the car, he would have picked up on that much earlier at school. Allison seemed to find the box she was looking for. 

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I promise,” he told her.

Scott turned to face her and then jumped back a few paces in pure terror as Allison pointed a bow at him. For a moment, all he could see was a crossbow pointed at him late at night and his right arm burned with agonising pain. He snapped back to reality again but the fear and adrenaline rush were still there, pumping through his veins.

“What the hell is that?” he cried out.

“It’s a compound bow,” Allison told him, smiling. “And I’m pretty sure it requires a bow and arrow to be harmful.”

He kept a hand up in front of his chest protectively as he took a few steps forward. “So that’s what you’re good at. Archery.”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” she reminded him accusingly.

“Trust me, I’m not laughing,” Scott replied quickly. Laura had said that Allison wasn’t likely to be in the know, that she wasn’t trained to be a hunter, but it was clear that her family were preparing her for it. He turned away slightly and saw something that stopped his heart. 

Inside a, thankfully, locked cage were over a dozen guns, ranging from the handgun the sheriff used to military-grade weapons. Scott heard the echo of the shotgun the hunter, Kate, Allison’s aunt, fired the night before. If the bow had scared him, it was nothing like seeing the guns. He thought of the bullet, the one thing Derek needed to not die, but doubted that the type of bullet he was looking for would be kept with the standard-issue looking bullets and maintenance supplies. Allison saw him staring.

“So, I guess I should explain,” she said. “We’re not some sort of separatist gun nut family. My dad sells firearms to the law enforcement.”

It was a good cover story, he thought numbly, and it gave them a good connection to the police if something went wrong. Scott would be impressed if he didn’t know that some of those weapons would be used to kill people like him. He wondered what Allison would think about it if she knew the truth, she didn’t seem thrilled about the official purpose for the guns, and if she would see him as a monster if she knew the whole truth.

“Oh, that’s good,” Scott managed to say. “So, um, are you planning on joining the family business?”

“I don’t know. You tell me. Would I look good with a gun?”

“Better without,” he told her honestly.

She laughed but before they could do anything else there was the sound of the door opening and closing, someone else coming in. They both froze and turned to see Allison’s dad standing in the doorway, carrying a box. Before any of them could say anything, a voice called out from the front of the house:

“Hey, Chris, get your ass out of the fifties and come help with the groceries!”

“Be right there!” he called back before turning to them. “You two mind helping?”

“Sure.”

“No problem,” Scott told him, still terrified.

They all went to the car where Kate was carrying two bags into the house. Scott knew they hadn’t seen him in the night, he’d be dead if they had, but there was still that fear. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to get the bullet now that they were all home. Chris was carrying in bags, giving him death glares, Kate was looking at him curiously every chance she got, and Allison’s mum was unpacking things in the kitchen, giving everyone commands. Apparently having a matriarchal structure for hunting carried down to general everyday life.

He tried to do his tasks as quickly as possible. The discomfort the house made him feel was tripled now that there were actual hunters there. Scott knew he needed to text Deaton that he’d failed as soon as he could, since they didn’t know how far the infection had spread, but he hadn’t quite run out of chances yet. 

Allison had explained to her aunt and mum that they were only in the garage to look at her bow and they’d been sidetracked by the guns. He added in that he knew a little bit about handguns because his dad was in the FBI and Stiles’ dad was the sheriff, which explained his interest. It also meant that Allison’s dad no longer had non-supernatural related reasons for wanting to kill him which was nice. Scott was considering how much time he had to find the bullet when he went up to get his bag when Allison came with him, foiling that plan.

“I’m sorry about my dad,” she said sheepishly. “He can be a little overprotective sometimes.”

“It’s alright,” he replied. “Really. Besides, it’s not like it’s your fault.”


	70. Magic Bullet Part Ten

They went back downstairs and Scott grabbed his bike. A text came through, his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he pulled it out, seeing that the message was from Stiles. He opened it up and tried not to groan when he read it, not wanting anyone to ask questions.

_ Deaton’s here but Derek’s not looking good. _

“Do you still wanna study?” Scott asked Allison hopefully. He knew he needed to find the bullet but trying to force himself back into the house wouldn’t work and she would be able to pick up on the fact that he was acting strange.

“She’ll concentrate better on her own,” Chris told him firmly. Scott gulped.

“Guess I’ll see you later then?” he said to her. Even if he survived going into a house with hunters who wanted to hurt him, and nothing in Chris’ face told him that was wrong, Deaton would kill him for doing something so stupid and reckless.

“At school,” Chris interrupted again. “You, on your bike. You, inside.”

“Oh, come on, Chris, really?” Kate asked disbelievingly. “They were literally just talking in the garage, not shooting amateur porn. You, with the adorable brown eyes, drop your bike. You’re staying for dinner.”

Scott didn’t think the relief he felt when Kate let go of his shoulder and stepped away was entirely because she was the hunter who shot Derek but he ignored the feeling, he had a way into the house, another chance to find the bullet. Allison smiled at him and went back inside, leaving him and Chris alone. Scott doubted that Chris would kill him in front of all of his neighbours but he also doubted that Chris wouldn’t just tell him to go home, regardless of what his sister had said.

“You eat meat?” Chris asked in a challenging tone. He nodded.

He started awkwardly going inside before pausing. “You don’t mind?”

“Actually, no,” he reassured in a way that was not at all reassuring and wrapped a tight arm around Scott’s shoulders. “Gives us a chance to get to know each other.”

Scott tried to hold back a flinch when Chris shut the door. He was now stuck inside a house full of hunters who would kill him if they found out what he was. And Scott was pretty sure they’d use that as an excuse to go after Laura and Derek, maybe even Deaton and Mrs Morrell since they were so connected. An icy wave of fear washed over him. 

“You two go upstairs and study,” Allison’s mum, Victoria, told them in a way that invited no questions. “We’ll call you back down when dinner’s ready.”

“Thanks, mum,” Allison replied, half-dragging Scott up to her room. He was perfectly happy to be dragged if it meant getting away from there.

“Your aunt seems … nice,” Scott told her once the door closed. “You’re not, um, you're not going to get in trouble for earlier, are you?”

“No, don’t worry about it.”

They sat on her bed, which made him think they were maybe pushing their luck a bit, and pulled out their school stuff again. Scott grabbed the easiest piece of work he had, a worksheet for biology, and went through it, trying to come up with a plan. During dinner, he could excuse himself to the bathroom and say if he took too long that he got lost. The house was definitely big enough for that to be believable. And he had a vague idea where the bullet was, he’d seen Kate go into her room as they walked up and it was his safest bet.

“What do you and Stiles have planned, then?” Allison asked him, clicking her pen a few times as she looked over an equation in her notebook.

“What?”

“You said Stiles texted you to ask when you were working this week. Do you have plans or something?”

“Oh, um, if both my mum and his dad have late shifts, I’ll go over his and we play videogames pretty much the whole night,” Scott explained. “Sometimes we’ll order pizza too.”

Allison laughed.

“God, that’s the most stereotypical teenage boy thing I’ve ever heard. Do you play zombie games as well?”

“They can be kinda fun, yeah,” he shrugged, also grinning. It was very stereotypical, both he and Stiles knew that, but it was their bonding time and it meant his mum didn;t worry about asthma attacks as much. Not that that was a problem now. “Do you not find zombie games fun?”

“Occasionally,” she admitted. “They can be good stress relief. I used to be obsessed with Sims. I’d spend hours creating a family and their house and then I’d forget about them for a month and they’d all have died and I’d need to start all over again.”

“I thought that was the only way to play Sims,” Scott replied and then they were both laughing again. “Although I did only play it a few times.”

They both fell quiet again, focused on their work and well aware that Allison’s dad was still very angry about the situation. If he found them talking and joking instead of working, Scott would  _ not _ be staying for dinner. He finished his biology work and started going over his notes for history again. The page was covered in highlighter and messy notes by the time he was done and moving onto his next homework.

“You’re in some of Lydia’s classes right?” Allison asked him quietly, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. “Do you ever work with her? Like for pair or group work?”

“Sometimes. We were together in physics today because some of the class were away. Why?”

“Did she mention me?”

“Yeah, she said she knew I was coming over yours to study,” Scott replied. “Seemed very protective and maybe a little, um … a little jealous.”

Allison’s tense shoulders dropped and she smiled bashfully. “Really?”

“Well, I don’t like to spread rumours,” he joked and she swatted his arm playfully. “But, yeah, she did seem a little jealous. Not sure what of since you’re clearly close and you definitely like her. I think it might actually be the first time I’ve seen Lydia actually jealous, even in kindergarten she didn’t struggle.”

“I keep forgetting you all grew up together,” she huffed. “We normally move to pretty big cities so most of the highschoolers come from different middle schools and stuff. Smaller towns are a lot harder to fit into.”

“You’re doing okay, though,” Scott said softly. “I mean, you’re doing good,  _ well _ , in your classes you’ve got friends and you’ve only been here a month. That’s great.”

“Thanks.”

“Dinner!” Chris yelled up from downstairs and they both jumped. 

“Ready?”

“To go into the belly of the beast?” he joked. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. But we should probably get down soon before your dad gets mad.”


	71. Magic Bullet Part Eleven

They went downstairs, going awkwardly into the kitchen. Scott rehearsed how to offer to help set the table in his head multiple times and was surprised to see it had already been set up. Everyone else was sitting down at the table, pouring water into all of the cups. He let Allison sit down first, taking the final chair, and looked down at his plate. Scott was very relieved to see that it was a meal that he liked, that he didn’t have yet another thing, albeit minor, to worry about.

Kate began a conversation with Allison and as uncomfortable as the way she looked at him made him feel, he was glad that the conversation wasn’t focused on him. He couldn’t forget, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he was sat at a table full of hunters, in a house full of weapons designed specifically to kill someone like him, whilst Derek was dying of a gunshot wound because of one of the hunters sitting with him. Scott took a sip of his drink, hoping to not join in the conversation, and he figured that would give him an excuse for him to go to the bathroom. 

“Would you like something to drink besides water, Scott?” Victoria asked him kindly.

“Oh … no, I’m good. Thanks,” he replied, smiling at her as best he could.

“We can get you some beer,” Chris offered just as he was about to take another sip. Scott paused, looking at him in confusion. He wasn’t even sure that he had really heard Chris properly but Allison seemed just as confused as he was. Chris raised his eyebrows, apparently expecting an answer.

“No, thanks.”

“Shot of tequila?”

“Dad, really?” Allison asked disapprovingly.

“You don’t drink, Scott?”

“I’m not old enough to,” he replied, awkwardly. It felt like a normal interrogation from a protective dad but he still felt unsettled that a hunter was interrogating him. 

“That doesn’t stop many teenagers,” Victoria said in a friendly tone with nothing kind behind her eyes. 

“No, but it should,” Scott said lamely.

“Good answer,” Kate told him. “A total lie, but well played, Scott. You may survive the night.”

The comment felt a little too close to home. Since she didn’t seem to feel any guilt or remorse for shooting at a person with a poison bullet that would probably kill him within the day, Scott wouldn’t be surprised if she was actually joking about it. He thought of the bullet hidden somewhere in the house but knew he couldn’t escape whilst Chris was still interrogating him. 

“You ever smoke pot?” Chris asked him suddenly. Scott choked on his drink. 

“Okay. Changing the channel to something a little less conservative,” Kate laughed, holding a hand up to stop her brother. “So, Scott, Allison tells us you’re on the lacrosse team. I’m sorry I don’t know anything about that, more of a basketball girl myself. How do you play?”

He figured that Kate couldn’t have lived in Beacon for very long if she didn’t know anything about lacrosse. Everyone in Beacon knew about lacrosse, it was the main sport in every school in town, there were a couple of adult teams that people watched in local games. Scott wracked his brain for a good description. He didn’t want to get into the intense details, that could get boring and would take a very long time, but something brief would just be confusing.

“Um, well, you know hockey?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“It’s a lot like that, only played on grass instead of ice,” Scott explained. It was how he’d explained it to his abuelita and he was fairly certain that had gotten the gist of it across given how she had freaked out about him playing it with his asthma. Kate nodded in understanding. 

“Hockey on ice is called field hockey,” Chris pointed out, gesturing with his knife. Scott saw him pointing a crossbow at him in the middle of the night again. The image passed quickly; the fear did not.

“Oh, yeah.”

“So it’s like field hockey, except the sticks have nets,” Allison said, looking pointedly at her dad. Scott’s phone buzzed in his pocket, another text from Stiles.  _ Call me _ .

“And you can slap check like in hockey?”

“Um, yeah. But it’s only the gloves and the sticks,” he replied.

“Sounds violent. I like it.”

Scott did  _ not _ like the way she said that, remembering her casualness and complete indifference when she was talking about Derek dying and the fact that she saw no problem firing a shotgun in the middle of the night or walking around a suburban neighbourhood with an assault rifle. He tried not to shudder at the predatory glint in her eyes at the mention of violence. 

“Scott’s amazing, too” Allison continued and he stared down at his plate in embarrassment. “Dad came with me to his first game. Wasn’t he good?”

“He was fine,” Chris admitted gruffly. Based on how the meal was going, that was the best compliment Scott was going to get from the man. It was kinder than he had expected, actually. 

“He scored the last shot, the  _ winning _ shot,” Allison told her aunt out of pride for Scott and to spite her dad.

“True. But he didn’t score at all until the last few minutes.”

“His last shot ripped a hole through the goalie’s net,” Allison said. “It was incredible.”

Terror raced through him when she said that. None of them knew him before the bite, they didn’t know the sudden change in his athletic abilities, they didn’t know how his asthma previously would have stopped him from even trying to score a goal in an actual game. He didn’t have to worry about them becoming suspicious about how he had changed like he did with Jackson and the other people at school. But doing feats that seemed impossible, or at the very least improbable, would definitely draw the attention of a family of hunters.

“Well, I think the goalie was probably playing with a defective stick, so …” Chris told her and Scott had never been more glad that someone had dismissed him in his entire life. So long as Allison didn’t mention the frontflip at tryouts, he was probably in the clear for that emergency. She put her glass down heavily, loudly, and he could hear how fast her heart was beating, could smell the anger rising off her. 

Her leg was jiggling under the table, reminding him of Stiles when his meds wore off in the evening, and her hands were in her lap, drawn in on herself. Scott reached over as subtly as he could and squeezed her hand reassuringly. She had stood up for him, against her dad, and he appreciated it. Besides, she didn’t know he was a werewolf, nor did she know her family were hunters. Allison was completely innocent in the supernatural world and he wasn’t going to do anything to change that, not after what he’d been through because of it. 

“I think I’ll take that shot of tequila,” he joked weakly.

For a moment everything was silent and Scott feared that he had completely messed up. Then Allison grinned and Kate laughed, Victoria chuckling a bit. Even Chris was smiling into his glass. He relaxed slightly. 

“You were kidding, right?”

“Yeah.”


	72. Magic Bullet Part Twelve

Scott quickly made his excuses to go to the bathroom and disappeared upstairs, his phone ringing almost immediately once he was alone. He was relieved that it hadn’t happened in front of everyone, not sure what Stiles would say first when he answered. The other boy sounded stressed and Scott could sympathise with that. Being in the Argents’ house had his stress level up far too high.

“Derek’s not looking good,” Stiles told him. “Like, Deaton’s doing a lot of cool stuff and it is pretty amazing but still looks bad. And, by the way, he’s starting to smell.”

“Like what?” he asked, thinking that that little detail was the least of their problems.

“Like death.”

That was a problem. Scott remembered the first time he’d dealt with a cancerous animal after the bite. He had been able to smell how the animal was dying, how the disease was ravaging the poor thing’s body. If Derek was sick enough that even Stiles, with his regular human senses, could smell it, then he really needed to find the bullet and get over there fast. He could hear a bit of commotion on the other end and suddenly Deaton was talking to him.

“How are you doing, Scott? Are they getting suspicious?”

“No. I, um, I don’t think they are, no. And I’m looking, I’m doing my best -”

“I know, Scott. If you can’t find it, I have everything set up to take care of the infected part of his arm and I’ve done what I can to stop it from spreading any further.”

In the background, Stiles and Derek were arguing about the specifics of it, Derek sounding irritated and Stiles frantic. He knew that the back up plan for him not being able to find the bullet was Derek having his arm amputated and he also knew that Stiles tended to faint at needles. Blood might not be enough to make him do it but a sawn off arm could be enough. It would be enough for Scott, that was sure.

“I’m trying to find it but it’s just one bullet and the house is like the freaking Walmart of guns,” he said, his frustration bleeding into his words. He shouldn’t take it out on Deaton, and he was doing his best not to, but the situation was feeling impossible.

“Do your best but if circumstances change, text me and get out of there right away.”

“I will, I promise.”

The call cut off and he was left in the house, feeling very alone all of a sudden. When he could hear Deaton and Stiles and even Derek, it was like having a little shield. The Argents couldn’t do anything to him if he was on the phone with someone, if there were witnesses. At least, that was what he told himself. Realistically people who carried on a family tradition of hunting and murdering others because they didn’t see them as human might not have a problem with witnesses. Or maybe they would just kill any witnesses. Scott felt sick. 

He paced the hall, filled with adrenaline fuelled energy and not knowing what to do with it, trying to come up with a plan to do something,  _ anything _ .

There were footsteps approaching and panic gripped him for a moment. Scott forced himself to remain calm. He had a reasonable story, that he couldn’t find the bathroom, he realised as he was thinking it that he actually didn’t know where the bathroom was, but there were still a lot of uncertainties to deal with. The most pressing one being whether or not any of them had figured out he was a werewolf. There could be tests that they had secretly performed somehow, however ridiculous that was, and now they were waiting for him to be alone.

Opening a door at the end of the hall set off an alarm that was torture for his already frazzled nerves. Taking a few steps back instinctively, someone approached him from behind and Scott turned to face them. It was Kate, looking at him with the same predatory smil as earlier, more terrifying than the sudden alarm. 

“You look like a little lost puppy,” she told him with amusement.

“Um … I’m just looking for the bathroom,” Scott said, doing his best to sound casual and not like he was lying through his teeth. 

“Bathroom?” she asked, checking. Scott nodded. Her arms crossed. “Does that look like a bathroom?”

Scott looked back at the door, noting the lock underneath the handle and the alarm code pad on the wall next to the door. It wasn’t his smartest idea, he could admit that quite easily, but he didn’t have a lot of options. He looked back at Kate uncomfortably. “No.”

“No,” she agreed and pointed to the side. “Use the guest bathroom.”

“Okay, thanks,” Scott replied awkwardly and, with one last look at the locked door, he went over to where Kate pointed. He could feel her staring as he walked and it unnerved him. She felt more threatening than just a hunter. Even if he had never learned about werewolves, never knew about the supernatural or what Kate had done, she would feel like a threat, like a predator.

He opened the door to her bedroom, which would have felt uncomfortable even under the best circumstances, and flicked the light on, listening and waiting for Kate’s footsteps to disappear. There was a good chance that the bullet was in her room, not as good a chance as the locked room in a house full of weapons, but Scott would take any chance he could get at this point. Closing the door behind him, he looked around. Sniffing, he caught scent of something familiar.

It was underneath the bed, near the rest of Kate’s bags, and he approached quietly, worried that someone else would walk in. Grabbing under the bed, Scott pulled out a large black duffel bag and unzipped it. Inside were clothes stuffed in messily and a large leather case. The scent was strongest in the case.

Opening it revealed dozens and dozens of bullets, organised neatly into sections based on size. It all looked very uniform; a case full of gold except for the small wooden box nestled inside with a symbol stamped on the front in dark ink. Scott recognised it immediately. On the box was the leaf of the plant aconitum or, more importantly, wolfsbane. That had to contain the bullet Derek needed. He grabbed it with trembling hands, lifting the top, and called Deaton.

“Are you alright, Scott?” came the vet’s voice. 

“Yeah, I’ve got the bullet,” he replied, opening the box. Only one bullet was missing. The one that had hit Derek in the night. He picked up one of the remaining bullets and read along the carving on the top of the box. “Uh, it says ‘aconit napel bleu nordique’. Do you know what that is?”

“Nordic blue monkshood,” Deaton translated. “It’s very, very dangerous. You’ll need to bring us the bullet to treat the infection. We need the exact strain and the only way to guarantee it is using a bullet from the same batch.”

“Okay,” Scott replied, putting the bullet in his pocket. He patted it nervously. “I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“Stay safe, Scott.”

He hung up the phone and painstakingly put everything back exactly as he found it. Darting into the bathroom, he flushed the toilet and ran the tap for a short while in case anyone could hear. With a deep breath to try and settle himself, Scott walked downstairs, hyper aware of the bullet in his pocket. No one would suspect anything, no one had any reason to suspect anything, but he felt so anxious that he was sure that someone would pick up on something. 

“Hey, I should get going,” he said as he walked back into the room. “Um, thanks for dinner.”

“Oh, no,” Kate told him. “You have to stay for dessert. I want to know more about you. Sit down.”

It sounded like a pleasant request but it felt like a strict order. Scott sat down in his chair, sitting directly opposite her, and tried to forget about the fact that barely a minute earlier he had been searching through her things. With how she was staring at him, it was very difficult to. Victoria started talking and he was grateful for the distraction.

“Allison was just telling us that you work for a veterinarian.”

“I told them how you put the cast on the dog I hit,” she explained.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, a message from Stiles asking for an ETA and for him to try and hurry up. Scott figured he could get through dessert quickly, keep the questions focused on his job, those conversations tended to lead to the usual questions about university and future jobs, and escape as soon as he could. He knew where Derek’s place was and it was dark enough for him to not need to worry about cycling supernaturally fast.

“What does your boss think of the animal attacks? Any theories?” Chris asked him casually and Scott’s head shot up at the change in conversation direction, the only direction that he didn’t want to go down.


	73. Magic Bullet Part Thirteen

He tried to think of an easy answer, one that wouldn’t prompt too many questions. Ringing through his ears was Deaton’s description to the sheriff about how a wolf hunted, when he could remember what it felt like to hunt like a wolf. The others were staring at him, expecting an answer, and Scott made his decision, going with the sheriff’s words.

“Everyone’s just saying it’s a mountain lion.”

Kate laughed, a real laugh, and shared a look with Victoria. “Have to be a pretty large mountain lion.”

“What do you think?” Victoria asked him.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “We usually get cats and dogs at the vet. Nothing that vicious.”

“Never had to deal with a rabid dog?” Chris asked.

Scott shook his head. Of course, he knew about rabies. It had been part of his training when he first started working for Deaton. It was pretty much incurable once the infection set in, though you could get an infection before that happened to try and stop it, and it drove animals insane, making even the most docile of pets dangerous. They had been lucky enough at the clinic to never have a rabid animal but Deaton had told him about the few times that the vet had dealt with it, always with a dark look on his face, especially when he spoke about needing to put the animal down. Scott didn’t like where Chris was going to go with the question. 

“Oh, I grew up with a lot of dogs,” he continued. “I saw one get rabies from a bat. It was transferred through the bite. People think that a rabid dog suddenly goes mad. It’s a lot more gradual. First stage is subtle changes in behaviour. They’re restless, morose. It’s the second stage that people know. The furious phase. That’s when they attack. And we’re talking any moving object.”

As Chris was talking, Kate took a sip of her wine, rolling her eyes at the story her brother was telling. They couldn’t have too large of an age gap so she must have known at least some of the dogs that Chris had. Scott wondered how she could be so uncaring about it. Even if her brother had told the story a lot, though it was a very brutal story and he wasn’t sure how often it would come up, Scott was surprised that she had so little empathy. The way that Chris was telling it emphasised more of the dangers for people that a rabid dog posed rather than how the animal was suffering, like Deaton had done, but it was still an upsetting story. 

“Did you know that a caged rabid dog will break its own teeth trying to chew through the bars?” Chris asked and Scott shook his head. It was an awful mental image. “It’ll even rear back and snap its own spine. Can you imagine the amount of force it would take to do that? It’s a complete character reversal. This harmless animal turns into a perfectly vicious killer. And it all started with that one bite.”

A heavy mood hung over the table.

The story felt close, uncomfortably close, to what Scott worried he would go through, what he worried he had already gone through. He’d never even hurt a fly, had barely even been strong enough to hurt a fly, and in one night he had become someone who yelled, who shoved his friend, who lost complete control of himself and acted like an animal. Someone who knew what it was like to hunt prey. A predator. Scott fought back a shudder. That wasn’t what he would become. He’d rather die than become something like that. Three of the people sat around him probably felt much the same way for very different reasons. There was no way that Chris wasn’t alluding to werewolves.

“But it died, didn’t it?” Allison asked, breaking the silence. She was the only person who didn’t know the full story. Scott felt his gut twist with guilt.

“Yes, because your grandfather shot it,” Victoria replied matter of factly. 

“Because he wanted to put it out of its misery?” Allison asked hopefully. He didn’t share her optimism. 

“Because it was too dangerous,” Chris corrected. “Something that out of control is better off dead.”

It felt like a summary of his motivations for being a hunter.

Scott realised with more than a bit of horror that he partially agreed. Peter was out of control, whether he was aware of it or not, and that was the only reason that Scott had become involved in any of this. Hunters going after Peter wouldn’t be much of a tragedy. But it was where they drew the line, or rather where they didn’t. Laura and Derek had control, their family had control, and they were still targeted, still murdered horrifically. They were still hunted and they were the ones trying to help Scott. And he was trying to help them, something that he really needed to get back to if he wanted Derek to survive the night. 

It felt like Chris was staring right at him, as if reconsidering Scott in a completely different light. He was reminded of the night of the full moon, the curiosity in his eyes when Scott was pinned to the tree by a crossbow bolt. His arm ached again. Scott looked away. 

“What a cheerful conversation,” Allison said. “I’ll help bring in dessert.”

Her and Victoria left the table and went into the kitchen, leaving Scott with Chris and Kate. In the background he could hear mother and daughter talking quietly along with the clinks of bowls as they were filled and collected. A bowl of cake with cream drizzled on top was placed in front of him by Allison and he thanked her. The table was silent as everyone started eating.

“So, Scott, we got a little sidetracked with the world’s most depressing childhood anecdote,” Kate began with a pointed look at her brother. “Do you want to be a very when you’re older or is it just something that you find interesting?”

“I wanna be a vet, yeah,” Scott replied. “Or, at least something in medicine. Not a surgeon, they don’t really talk to patients, but maybe a nurse, like my mum.”

“That is so sweet,” she cooed. “Do you have any pets?”

“I had a dog, Roxy, when I was little. She was a cockapoo. My asthma was really bad when I was younger so she used to sleep in my room and would call my parents if I had an attack in the night.”

Talking about Roxy still hurt a little bit despite the years since her death. She had been a lovely dog, always so protective, which had caused her death, and Scott had adored her. It was because of Roxy that he had even become interested in becoming a vet and how he had met Deaton. Even without all of the supernatural problems, Scott would have struggled if he hadn’t met Deaton, he knew that for sure. There was something so comforting about the man and Scott had started thinking of him as a dad a very long time ago. Not that he had the courage to admit it.

“What type of dogs did you have growing up?” Scott asked Chris, figuring that since they had already gone over the rabies story, it would be a relatively safe topic. 

“We had three labradors, a pitbull and two rottweilers,” he answered with a smile that actually felt real. He turned to his sister. “You only remember one of the rottweilers and the pitbull, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Sherlock and Grimm,” she replied and said to Scott and Allison, “I did not pick the names, I promise you that.”

“Most I’ve had was a hamster when I was six,” Allison said. 

“I would’ve loved more dogs but we move about too much, the stress wouldn’t be good for them,” Chris explained. “Although it is in my retirement plan so I’ve got that to look forward to.”

There were a few soft laughs around the table, more to acknowledge Chris’ comment than because anyone thought it was funny. Scott was painfully aware of the time, knowing that every second in the house was another second he could be using to get the bullet to Derek, a second that the older werewolf might not have. But there was no way for him to leave without being obviously suspicious. Thankfully, everyone else seemed to be finishing up their own desserts and Scott could almost see his escape. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm not back to updating regularly yet but I'm on the way to recovery so I managed to edit these two chapters on a good day. I'm hoping to be back to regular updates by about mid-August, if all goes well.
> 
> Hope you all like and thank you for being patient. It's very appreciated.


	74. Magic Bullet Part Fourteen

Allison had gone upstairs to her room to grab his bag and Scott volunteered to help the dishes. It was mostly a gut instinct drilled into him by his mother to always volunteer for help but when Scott was halfway to the kitchen he realised that it meant he could speed up his escape. Chris and Kate went into the front room to talk about something, he did his best to block out their conversation, knowing that it would only freak him out even more, and he went into the kitchen with Victoria. They were loading the dishwasher together and she seemed as kind and welcoming as any of his friends’ parents but Laura’s words about the Argents being a matriarchal family played through his mind. 

If it was based entirely on blood then Kate would be in charge but Scott got the feeling that Chris had more control over her, not complete control, not based on the previous night, that Kate still had to listen to him. That left Victoria to be the one in charge. Which meant the person in charge of the family either didn’t suspect him or was just a very good actress. Scott was overthinking it too much. 

He could hear Allison moving around upstairs and once the final bowl and spoon was placed in the dishwasher she began walking downstairs. Going to the entryway to the house, Allison was just coming down the stairs with his bag slung over his shoulder. Even though Scott knew that Allison wouldn’t go through his bag, knew she didn’t have any reason to go through his bag, he was especially relieved that he kept the bullet in his pocket instead of anywhere else. Scott pulled on his hoodie, zipping it up quickly, and smiled at Allison.

“I’m so incredibly sorry,” she told him.

“For what?”

“For that being the worst, most horribly awkward dinner ever in the history of horribly awkward dinners,” she replied. 

“No, uh, it wasn’t the worst,” Scott said. “There was this one dinner when my parents were telling me they were getting a divorce.”

That hadn’t even been at home, it had been in a small restaurant so Scott felt like he couldn’t even cry, his dad hadn’t been home for about a week beforehand and didn’t come home again afterwards. His mother had been obviously upset, though she had done her best to hide it from him, and it felt wrong for Scott to ask her about it. He didn’t want to ask his dad anything about it, especially not when he was alone with him. That had felt even worse. Allison frowned at him sympathetically. 

“This one comes at a close second,” he added. 

Allison hugged him tightly and Scott became very aware of Chris staring at him from the doorway of the kitchen, having gone in there to get a drink for himself. It made him tense up uncomfortably. Though they hadn’t done anything, and Chris hadn’t seen anything that would have implied they did something, he still worried that Chris was suspicious of him. 

“You’re dad’s watching,” he warned quickly.

“Ignore him,” Allison said and she hugged him even tighter. 

Scott hugged her back just as tightly, still very grateful for how she had kept standing up for him, especially to her dad, and tried to ignore the daggers that Chris was glaring into him. They broke apart and he went to open the door, almost to safety. Kate approached them, her steps purposeful and a tiny amount of anger in her. Panic shot through Scott. There was no way that Kate would know that he had taken the bullet, but he still feared that she was going to accuse him of doing it, of being a werewolf, and that she was going to trap him in the house to kill him. Allison had mentioned that they had a basement she didn’t go into it and that was the most ominous thing Scott had ever heard. Again, the feeling of a crossbow bolt pinning his arm to a tree shot through his arm. 

“Wait a second, guys,” she said almost accusingly. 

“What is it?” Allison asked, concerned, having picked up immediately on her change in mood. 

“Uh, I have to ask Scott something.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Kate agreed and she reached behind him, closing the door a little too firmly. She chuckled in a way that was supposed to sound nervous but there was only mild anger in her scent, barely contained behind her eyes. “Uh, what did you take from my bag?”

“What?”

“My bag,” she repeated and Scott was so focused on his own terror that he almost didn’t notice how Allison had suddenly become very nervous. It couldn’t be a great situation for her to be trapped in the middle of. “What did you take from it?”

There was no way that she had proof, there was no way that she had proof, there was no way that she had proof. Scott kept repeating that mantra to himself, hoping that it would calm down his heartbeat to something that could possibly resemble something safe. 

“Do you need me to repeat the question? Maybe enunciate more clearly?”

“What are you talking about?” Chris asked as he walked over. 

“My bag is open in the guestroom and when I left it was shut,” she explained. Scott had messed up. He had really messed up. “Scott comes in to use the bathroom, he leaves, my bag’s open.”

“He didn’t take anything,” Allison tried to say before her aunt cut her off.

“Something was taken from my bag,” Kate continued. She barely even looked at Allison. “I hate to be the accuser here, Scott, because I really do love those adorable brown eyes but I don’t know if you’re klepto or curious or if you’re just stupid but answer the question. What did you take?”

“Nothing. I swear.”

“You don’t mind proving it, do you?”

“Are you serious?” Allison asked incredulously. 

“How about you show us what’s in your pockets?” Kate suggested. Scott was going to get shot with a crossbow again. Scott was going to get shot by a crossbow again. 

“Dad!” Allison protested but Chris said nothing, only giving her a look meant to silence her. 

“Come on, Scott, prove me wrong.”

“I’ll prove you wrong,” Allison said. “It wasn’t Scott going through your bags, it was me.”

“You?” Kate asked.

“Me,” Allison agreed. He wasn’t going to get shot by a crossbow. Allison pulled out a condom packet from her pocket. Scott immediately looked away from everyone he was surrounded by, suddenly very intently focused on the last step of the staircase. Werewolf or not, poison bullet or not, he was going to be murdered in that house by Chris Argent. 

When Scott did eventually risk looking up again, it seemed like no one wanted to look at anyone else. Chris looked about half a second away from shouting, at who, Scott wasn’t sure, but was just about holding himself back. He couldn’t quite tell the emotion that was on Kate’s face, it was either pride or embarrassment, but there was certainly no remorse there. And although Allison was holding her position firm and seemingly daring her family to say something to her, Scott could smell her anxiety even stronger than before. 

He definitely owed her another big favour, though she didn’t know it, and Scott was beginning to get the feeling that he was never going to quite be able to repay it all. How were you supposed to be grateful to someone for repeatedly saving your life when they didn’t even know why you were in danger in the first place?

Reaching behind her, Allison opened the door again and said goodbye to Scott, quickly slipping the packet in her pocket again. Based on how the evening had gone so far, and his most recent conversation with Deaton and Stiles, Scott left the house very quickly and rushed over to his bike. 

It was getting dark, dark enough that, if he was supposed to be home, his mum would be very worried, and he climbed on quickly. Because of the late hour and location, there wouldn’t be too many people driving and Scott knew he could go as fast as he could without fearing any major witnesses. Pedalling off of the driveway, he went at a reasonable pace until he was completely off of the road and out of sight of the Argent house.

Vaguely remembering where Derek lived, Scott sped up, taking the shortcuts he knew like the back of his head and avoiding the streetlights where he could. He was only a few miles away but he had been stuck in the house far too long and it may have cost Derek previous time to live. An image of a sawn off arm flashed in his mind, darkened blood like what he had seen spreading through Derek’s veins from his injury splattered all over the floor. It made him pedal even faster. 


	75. Magic Bullet Part Fifteen

For a reason that Scott didn’t understand, nor did he really want to, Derek lived in an abandoned factory where only two floors had been renovated to become habitable. He didn’t know if the older werewolf had plans for the rest of the building or if he was simply content to live in the opening scene of every bad horror movie but it meant that there was no one nearby to see Scott cycling inhuman fast down the empty road. 

He saw the Jeep and Deaton’s car parked outside and leapt off his bike as soon as he was close enough, not even turning around as it clattered to the ground. Rushing into the building, Scott saw a large set of stairs and decrepit lift doors and immediately turned to start racing up the stairs, two at a time. The lift may be perfectly functioning, despite the entire rest of the building, but Scott knew he would go insane waiting for it and at least going up the stairs made him feel like he was doing something instead of being trapped in a slowly moving metal box. 

Voices were getting closer and closer as he ran and soon he burst into the loft that Derek lived in. 

The werewolf in question was lying on the sofa, his arm elevated with a strip of fabric very tightly wrapped around it to help with the bleeding. Dark veins spread out from the bullethole and it was tinged a vivid blue all around it. Scott was reminded of the shade of Derek’s eyes when they had flashed in the car park. The smell of death shocked him back to focusing on the rest of the room. 

Spread out on a table was a mix of Deaton’s veterinary tools and supernatural supplies with a collection of bloodied tissues and clothes. All of the blood was tinted or stained dark as opposed to the bright red or drying brown that should happen normally. Stiles was on the opposite side of the room, looking very pale and sick, staring at a point just above Derek’s injured arm as if he was going to faint if he looked anywhere else. From what happened when they got their injections a few years ago, he might actually faint. 

“I’ve got the bullet!” Scott exclaimed, reaching into his pocket and pulling it out to show Deaton. Though his face barely changed from the calm expression he always wore during surgery, Scott could smell the relief on him, just about overpowering the scent of the infection. “What do I need to do?”

“Break it open on the table,” Deaton told him and began preparing something else.

Focusing, Scott gripped the metal in his hands and pushed down on both ends, feeling it break apart with the ease of ripping tissue paper. Powder plumed out of it and onto the table, making his nose wrinkle. A little too late he remembered that it was poisonous to him and Scott took a quick step back, watching as Deaton worked. 

The vet was collecting the powder into some sort of mix of other herbs, shaking them in a jar to ensure they were all mixed, and then cracked open the lid slightly, walking over to where Derek lay. Scott followed him. Derek didn’t look good. He was pale, his veins far too prominent, and his arms looked like it might fall off without them even needing to do anything. Scott had seen quite a few infections since joining the clinic, a couple they hadn’t been able to heal in time, but none had been as bad as what was in front of him. 

“I’m going to need you to hold him still, Scott, it’s going to be quite painful,” Deaton told him as though he was just telling him to change the litter for the cats. Scott nodded and went to the back of the sofa, holding Derek’s injured arm and his shoulder. There wasn’t any resistance yet but even in his weakened state Derek was strong and it was going to be difficult. “Derek, I need you to try and stay as still as possible. It’s going to be very difficult. On the count of three. Three.”

Deaton poured the mixture into the wound and Derek howled from shock. Thankfully that shock made him freeze up and Scott took that moment to lean his entire body weight on the older man, pushing down as hard as he could. It felt like trying to hold his ground against a tackle from Jackson before the bite, utterly pointless and extremely difficult, but he watched as the darkness in his veins began moving back to the bullet wound, already turning a healthier shade of red. 

Once it seemed like the spread had completely stopped, the injury began to heal. Slowly but steadily the hole closed up until nothing but unblemished skin remained. Derek was still pale but already beginning to look healthier again, a little bit of colour coming into his cheeks, and his entire body relaxed into the sofa from how tense he had laid before. 

“Is he alright?” Stiles asked quietly in the silence that followed. “He’s not dead, is he?”

“No, the infection’s gone and he’s healed,” Deaton replied. 

“Are you sure? ‘Cause, like, he looked bad before. He looked dead. Could it be a surge? Scott’s mum talked about them once; where someone gets a lot better right before they just drop dad. That’s not going to happen, is it?”

“Derek wouldn’t be able to heal if the infection was still there,” Deaton promised. Stiles still looked like he did when he had forgotten to take his adderall after school, incapable of staying still and looking like he was about to vibrate out of his skin, and Scott remembered something else that might help, in more ways than one.

“My mum says that normalcy can help with recovery and stuff. Would coffee help?”

“I’ll make it!” Stiles volunteered before faltering and turning to Derek. “Do you have a kitchen here or do you only take sustenance in the form of horror movie nightmares?”

“Just through there,” Derek replied and he gestured to a closed door. 

“We should call Laura, let her know you’re alright.”

  
  


<>

  
  


Marin had just gotten back to her room after whatever trip the kids had been on previously, the two of them talking over skype, when her phone rang, Alan’s contact flashing up on the screen. Her heart caught in her chest. Until that moment, Laura had been able to ignore what was going on, pretend that Derek would be okay no matter what, not have to face reality. Now reality was staring at her from her phone screen. Her wife noticed how she froze. 

“You need to pick up the phone, Laur,” she reminded her softly. 

“Alan could’ve texted. He wouldn’t text if Derek was dead.”

“He wouldn’t text either way,” Marin countered. “Just answer the phone, Laura, it’ll be okay.”

She nodded and answered, putting it on speaker so that Marin could hear soon, and waited with bated breath, hands gripping the sleeves of her sweater tightly. It wasn’t just Derek. Even if Scott had found the bullet and gotten it to him in time, Scott had just spent a lot of time in the Argents’ house, with Kate Argent. Taking away all of the werewolf problems and Laura would still have very valid reasons to be worried. 

Wolfsbane was bad, the few experiences that Laura had had with it left her weak for days and for someone who only took days to recover from nearly being torn in half, that was quite a feat, and almost entirely unpredictable once it had spread too far in the body. 

“Alan, hi,” Laura said breathlessly. She glanced at Marin who smiled at her reassuringly. “Any, uh, any updates?”

“Scott just got here with the bullet,” Alan replied, “And Derek’s arm is completely healed.”

“Oh, thank god,” she gasped out, laughing a little deliriously. “Everything’s alright on your end, then?”

“We’re all good,” Alan promised. “Do you want me to put Derek on?”

“Yeah, I need to threaten to kill him now that he’s no longer dying.”

Marin and Alan laughed at the same time, a similar laugh to each other though Laura would never say that to either of them, and she heard a slight scuffle as the phone was handed over before Derek’s slightly unsteady breathing greeted her. She had assumed that Alan was calling very quickly after healing Derek but apparently very quickly meant almost immediately from the sounds of him. 

“Hey, Der, how are you feeling?”

“Getting better by the second,” he said slightly hoarsely. “I’ll be alright, Laur. I’ve had Alan keeping the infection under control, Scott got the bullet for me and I’ve learned more about World of Warcraft than I’ve ever wanted to whilst Stiles tried to distract me.”

“How much did you want to know about World of Warcraft?” Marin asked curiously.

“Nothing,” he said and a muffled voice that sounded vaguely like Scott in the distance protested his words. “ _ Please _ don’t you start too. It’s been a long day.”

“You take it easy, Derek, alright? And as soon as I’m back you’re staying over again. We’re safer together, remember?”

“I remember. Want me to pass the phone to Scott?”

“Yeah, please.”


	76. Magic Bullet Part Sixteen

Laura waited on the phone, hearing as it was handed over. She could also hear Stiles asking Alan about if any World of Warcraft creatures were real as well. When she heard Scott on the other end, giving her something else to focus on and something to block out  _ that _ conversation, Laura organised her thoughts. After the day he’d had, starting so early with something so awful, she didn’t doubt that Scott was feeling overwhelmed.

“Hi,” he greeted nervously and Laura could almost smell the anxiety from the other end of the phone.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” she asked gently. Marin always said that you had to always be gentle when you didn’t know how a kid was feeling. “I figured you must be feeling pretty stressed.”

“Just a bit,” Scott admitted. “I’m just glad that Derek’s alright now.”

“He wasn’t too hard on you or Stiles, was he? He can be a bit harsh to people sometimes.”

That was a bit of an understatement but Laura didn't want to make Scott feel too uncomfortable. His voice was a little shaky but Laura wasn’t going to comment on that.

“Yeah, yeah, he was … fine,” Scott replied. 

It was hard not to laugh at how he fumbled for an appropriate word to use. Derek had been undoubtedly pretty bad to the two kids and she would have to make him come up with an apology. But it wasn’t the time for that. She just needed to reassure him about what he had done. Laira didn’t doubt that being in a house with the Argents would have been at least a little bit traumatic.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m … I will be fine, yeah. Bit shaky, but alright.”

“I’m glad. The Argents weren’t difficult, were they? Remember, in their code, they’re not allowed to go after you even if they know you’re a werewolf,” Laura reminded him. “You’re not a threat and you haven’t bit anyone.”

She knew that not all of the Argents, if any of them, actually followed the Hunter’s Code like that but Scott didn’t need to know that just yet. He had control and had a pack. The Argents wouldn’t suspect him for a very long time if Laura had anything to do with it. Once Peter was taken care of, though she didn’t know what that meant yet, the Argents would probably leave Beacon to go looking elsewhere. They were always moving around the country like most hunter families.

“No, they weren’t too bad, no. Um, Allison’s dad doesn’t like me but I think it’s just because I’m friends with Allison rather than because he suspects anything. He asked if I knew anything about the attacks and I said that everyone thinks it’s a mountain lion. Then he started talking about having to put down a rabid dog when he was younger. I don’t know if that was a werewolf thing or a threatening thing but … I didn’t like it.”

“Yeah, I don’t like that either. Um, when I get back, I’ll teach you something to help you tell if people are lying,” Laura promised. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had already picked up on some of it.

Her phone buzzed, most probably a message from Marin who Laura knew Alan would text about what had happened as well as what he knew about the poison. Laura didn’t know how they could process all of that and know what to do with all of the information but she was infinitely grateful that they could.

“Cool,” Scott replied and she heard as he fought back a yawn.

“Alright, you get home and get some rest, okay? You’ve had a hell of a day.”

“Will do,” he said. “Do you want me to pass the phone back to Derek?”

“Yes, please,” Laura replied and she checked the message that Marin had sent her. It explained that Alan had texted her and asked if she wanted to talk on the phone later. She sent a quick ‘yes’ as the phone was passed to Derek. “Alright, Der, we need to talk about apologies and how to treat sixteen-year-olds.”

<>

Scott quickly walked away from Derek and went to interrupt Stiles and Deaton. The vet had a strange look on his face. He couldn’t tell if Deaton was genuinely listening to Stiles because he actually wanted to hear it or if he had zoned out a while ago. Stiles was clearly infodumping and Scott wasn’t sure if his friend would even notice whether or not Deaton wasn’t paying attention. 

“Hey, you alright?” Scott asked, a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Yeah, I nearly saw a sawn off arm today, but, yeah, all good, no problems,” Stiles replied with a lot of nervous energy. “Need a lift home?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to take my bike this late at night.”

“Cool,” he said before he suddenly looked confused, going very still. “I don’t know what I did with my keys. Crap.”

Stiles scrambled away, with a lot of flailing limbs as he got off the seat, and looked around Derek’s place for his car keys. Turning back to Deaton, Scott smiled at him nervously. There was still the scent of the poison from Derek’s wound and the powder from the bullet, keeping a bit of adrenaline running through his veins. Scott was really looking forward to not being there anymore, hopefully taking a very long shower to get rid of the smell. 

“You did really good today,” Deaton told him. “You should be very proud.”

“Thanks,” he said awkwardly, not sure if he really should be. He had nearly ruined multiple times and could still see Kate demanding the truth from him, the way she had trapped him in the house. Scott had to fight back the shudder at that memory. “I, uh, I just did what I could.”

“Well, it was really good. You saved Derek’s life. And went through a lot of difficulty to do it.”

“I - um -” Scott stammered and was thankfully interrupted by Stiles jumping up with his keys held triumphantly in his hand. 

“Got ‘em!” he exclaimed loudly, getting a pointed look from Derek who was still on the phone. Stiles cringed a little bit as he realised how loud he had been. “Sorry. Uh, Scotty, you ready to go?”

“Uh, think so,” he replied, checking that he knew where his bag was. Scott looked to Deaton again and hugged the vet tightly. For a moment, Deaton just stood there, surprised but he held Scott back. “Thanks.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Take it easy.”

He and Stiles walked down the stairs of the creepy building. Scott could understand the logic of it being a good hiding place from the Argents but that was because no one would want to live there. If he lived there, Scott would have so many nightmares just from the building. It looked like the setting of about fifty low-budget horror movies. He shuddered a little bit.

“How can he live in a place like this?” Stiles groaned. “Even ignoring all of the creepy stuff and the fact that it’s miles away from everyone, there are so many  _ stairs _ !”

“Derek’s a werewolf,” Scott pointed out. “He’s stronger and he’s got more stamina than humans do. Stairs probably aren’t too much of a problem.”

“Well, it’s still too much,” he continued to grumble, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

As much as his friend was complaining, Scott could still smell the anxiety. Stiles always got a little anxious when his meds wore off but this was so much more. Dealing with a sick and possibly dying Derek would rattle anyone, even Stiles who didn’t even like the man. They would need a good few hours of video games together to recover from what they had done. 

“God, it smells like death in here,” Stiles said as they loaded Scott’s bike into the back. “I mean, I can smell it, it must be so much worse for you, right? Or do werewolf senses not pick up on werewolf poisons?”

“No, no, I can smell it,” Scott replied, wrinkling his nose. Death was a good description for what it smelled like in the Jeep. He could smell Derek, his fear and a bit of guilt, mixing together, as well as one of the scents of his wound; the blood, the poison, the dying tissue. It reminded Scott of the dog at the clinic battling cancer. “It’s, uh, it’s not great.”

The car started up and they drove along the long empty road back to the rest of the town. There were a lot of long and empty roads in Beacon but the one they were currently on was especially creepy. Being surrounded by the scent of death just made it so much worse. They were comfortably silent as they drove through Beacon Hills, reaching Scott’s house pretty quickly.

“See you tomorrow, dude,” Scott said as he climbed out of the passenger seat. “Text me when you get home?”

“Yeah,” Stiles promised. 

He got his bike out of the back and he stood by the porch as the Jeep drove away. Putting the bike away, Scott went inside. Melissa wouldn’t be home for another half-hour or so from the time on the clock and he still had a lot of restless energy after everything. Grabbing a few things out of the freezer, he turned on the oven and placed the leftovers inside, writing out a note for his mum, explaining when the food had been placed in.

As Scott walked up to his room, his phone buzzed with a message from Stiles. It was a picture of his friend, looking pretty grumpy, with about two dozen air fresheners hanging from his mirror of the Jeep. Scott saved the picture. There were so many that Scott could almost smell them. He only hoped that it would help to get rid of the smell. Getting the Jeep deep-cleaned would cost a lot and it would be hard to explain why it smelled like a bunch of animals had died inside. They were lucky that Stiles had the sheriff as his dad. 

Scott went straight to the bathroom and let almost scalding hot water run down his back in the shower, working out some of the knots in his back from stress. With the water and the soap, he could almost forget about Derek almost dying earlier. The sight of his dark veins in his arm, the blue wound, the way he kept losing control. Even on the night of the full moon, with hunters chasing them, he had had complete control over himself, eyes not even slightly glowing, but in the middle of the school car park, Derek kept losing control in front of all of those people. Laura also seemingly had perfect control on the night of the full moon. 

It was hard to imagine being capable of doing that.

Even on the days without the full moon, Scott struggled to control his shift, even with his anchor figured out. On the day of the full moon, every little thing had aggravated him, violence always being the first thought on his mind. Scott had hated every second of it but had no way of stopping it. He was getting better and he had his anchor now, but he was still terrified that he would lose control on the next full moon and hurt someone the way that he had almost hurt Stiles. Turning the water off, he got out and started drying himself off, he heard Melissa come in through the front door, going towards the kitchen. 

“Thank you, mijo!” Melissa called out and Scott grinned. He left the bathroom and went to his room, brushing his teeth quickly, and flopped down on the bed, hoping to not be dragged out by Peter or hunters again. 


	77. Magic Bullet Part Seventeen

Laura wrapped her hoodie a little tighter around her. It was technically Marin’s hoodie, she had brought it with her for the field trip and that meant it still strongly carried her wife’s scent, but that just made it a little more comforting. She had thought over what to say to Derek when she eventually got home but he had barely spoken, avoiding her and Marin as much as he could. With Marin still at work for another hour or so and Laura home early, he was trapped in the house and forced to talk to her. 

“I’m fine,” Derek sighed but she could see that he knew he was planning on how to get out of the conversation. “Alan and Marin checked me over like three times. My arm is completely healed. It’s not even scarred. Which reminds me, how’s your stomach?”

“I’ve never been better, that’s not what we’re talking about,” she replied quickly. “You were shot by Kate Argent who’s staying in town for an unknown period of time. I don’t care how well adjusted you are about it, that’s going to affect you.”

There was also no way to call Derek well adjusted about any of his trauma but she wasn’t going to mention that whilst trying to get him to open up. Her stomach was also mostly healed but still uncomfortable. A band of white scar tissue, no longer raised, wrapped all around her waist and she was slowly getting feeling back in the area. If Laura mentioned it at all, Derek would focus the entire conversation on that.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I just need to stay inside a bit more and make sure that I stick with you when we go looking for Peter. That’s all.”

Her plans for looking for Peter now involved only going out when they definitely knew he was going to be out and around people and hoping that the hunters got to him first. She was also not going to say that to Derek. Laura had a gut feeling that Derek thought Peter might still be able to be saved. “It’s not just keeping you physically safe, Der.”

“What else is there?”

“A lot, Derek. Do you think I can’t smell the fear on you?”

“I can smell fear on you as well,” Derek shot back.

“Yes, and that’s okay. This is all very scary. The Argents are back in town, you’ve been shot with a wolfsbane bullet and Peter decided to bite an innocent kid to try and control,” she explained. “We’re supposed to be scared. But we’re also supposed to talk about it.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“What scares you the most? What was your nightmare about last night?”

Derek looked up at her in slight panic and Laura thought she saw his eyes ever so briefly flash a cold blue. “How did you know I had a nightmare last night?”

“We can hear heartbeats with ease and smell hormone changes. It wasn’t hard to figure out,” she explained. Whatever was going on with Derek must have really shaken him for him to have forgotten something as simple as that. 

Instead of answering her, he walked out of the kitchen and went to the living room, sitting down heavily on the sofa. Laura waited a moment before following him. She tugged a little nervously on the string of her hoodie. Sitting on the other end of the sofa, Laura turned to face her little brother. He had a bit of stubble on his cheeks that he hadn’t shaved yet. Despite looking more like their mother than she or Cora did, whenever Laura saw him unshaved, she always thought he looked more like their dad. It was probably why he shaved so frequently. 

“Do you want to tell me what the nightmare was about?” Laura asked softly. 

“Not really,” he sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. “Um, it was about the fire. Everyone was inside, even you, and it wasn’t just the basement, it was the entire house. I was outside and everyone was screaming for help but I couldn’t break the barrier. And the police came and they dragged you all out but you were all burned like Peter was and …”

He trailed off and Laura moved over to hug him tightly, his face buried in her shoulder and tears wetting her hoodie. They both had nightmares after the fire, Marin said it was mostly survivor’s guilt, with a lot more guilt weighing on Derek’s mind because of what Kate had done to him. She hadn’t had that specific nightmare but she’d had similar over the years and knew how bad they were. Running a hand through his hair, Laura murmured comforting words until the tension from Derek’s shoulders had slowly melted away. He lifted his head a little and sniffled. 

All she wanted was to be able to take the pain away but their abilities didn’t work on emotional pain. They had tried before. 

“How are you feeling?” Laura asked, still brushing through his hair. 

“A little better,” Derek admitted embarrassedly. “You, uh, you might have been just a little bit right about that.”

“I’ll try not to let that go to my head.”

They sat in silence for a little while. There was the scent of grief hanging heavily in the air. Every so often, Derek would sniffle a bit or wipe at his eyes. “Would it be alright if I stayed here with you and Marin for a bit longer?”

“Of course you’re staying here,” Laura replied. “You can stay here as long as you want to. That’s why you have the room upstairs. That room is just for you, you know.”

Before Derek could reply, his stomach grumbled, the sound loud even without their enhanced hearing. Laura laughed and quickly covered her mouth with her hand, unable to stop her giggles. She squeezed his shoulder and got up to grab her phone from the kitchen.

“Based on that sound, I’m going to order pizza,” Laura declared. “Do you want your usual?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t we wait for Marin to get home?”

“We can keep hers warm in the oven until she gets home. I’ll make sure that we keep some of the sides leftover for her,” she replied and dialled the number. 

Derek went to the bathroom to wash up as Laura made her order. He was still in there when she finished and texted Marin about what dinner was going to be that night. She knew that she wasn’t going to get a response until Marin was done for the day since she had appointments filling her schedule since lunch. 

“It’ll be about half an hour,” she said when Derek finally left, his face having clearly been scrubbed. A few droplets still clung to his hair. “That help you feel a bit more human?”

“I’ve always hated how often you use that phrase,” Derek said. 

“I know, it’s why I say it so often,” Laura grinned. “Come on. We’ll get the table and stuff set. If you want to talk about it more, you can. If not, we can talk about something else.”

They started in silence, clearing the table that was covered in Laura’s laptop and work files. It was a comfortable silence and it was nice for Laura to see some of the stress gone from Derek. He had recovered fairly quickly once the poison was gone from his system and his arm was fine by the time their phone call had ended. 

“How’s Scott’s training going?” Derek asked.

“He’s doing really good. He’s past most of the hard parts now. Figured out his anchor, got pretty good control of his shift, not being called by Peter every night, though he might not be calling him as often. Once this hunter thing is dealt with, we’re going to figure out a way for him to tell him mum,” Laura explained. “Oh, that reminds me. I was meaning to ask you to talk to him about how you kept control when you were playing basketball in school. I get that it’s not as violent, but hearing advice from other people should help.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll do my best,” he promised. 


	78. Magic Bullet Part Eighteen

Scott walked nervously over to Morrell’s office. He always made an effort to be a little early to appointments and practices but especially for Morrell. Ever since their first appointment, she had been exactly on time to every single appointment, and the other students who saw her said the same thing. He wasn’t quite sure why he was so nervous about the appointments. Being a minute or two late to the appointment wouldn’t get him in trouble and they were always helpful, Morrell never being judgemental about anything that he said. 

Stiles had a free period last and had headed home, hoping to hear something interesting on the police radio and going to work on some homework for his maths class. He didn’t doubt that the homework would be immediately ignored in favour of whatever the first call to the police line was. 

When he knocked on the door, there was a quick response and Scott went inside, sitting down in the chair with his bag placed at his feet. Morrell smiled at him kindly and opened up her file on him. Every session, there was a new sheet of notes in the file, written in careful handwriting, and Scott couldn’t understand having such a good memory that he would be able to write up the notes to a needed level of detail after the event.

“Hello, Scott. Have your lessons today been good?”

“They’ve been alright. There was a bit of a, uh, incident in chemistry, but no one was badly hurt.”

“I’m glad. I did hear the shouting. It led to a lot of speculation in my class. May I ask what caused it?”

“We were doing a practical with some of the test tubes. We were mixing a couple of chemicals and were waiting to see how quickly it would turn into a gas. One of the groups didn’t realise what that meant and put a cork in their test tubes. Someone leant over it, the cork burst out of the test tube, hit them in the forehead and broke the glass. They came back with a very big bruise on their forehead but the nurse said they’re fine.”

“I bet that must hurt,” Morrell grimaced.

It had been a very big bruise only five minutes after the event, so Scott didn’t doubt that it would get bigger and darker. Thankfully, Sam, the one that had been hit, seemed to be pretty cheerful and alert when he got back to class, finishing up the rest of his notes, so he definitely wasn’t concussed despite being knocked back by the blow. The glass had been collected carefully after Sam had been walked to the nurse and they had all been yelled at by Harris for a while. Even Scott had to admit that it was a pretty stupid thing to do. 

“It looked painful when he got back,” Scott replied.

“Right, well, other than that, have you had a good day?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Morrell glanced at the file, tilted so that whoever was sitting opposite her wouldn’t be able to see it, before getting a little more serious. He had been expecting something like this for the appointment. It was the first one since Derek had been shot and he had retrieved the bullet from the Argents’ house. Scott had explained what had happened in broad strokes but was fairly certain he was going to have to get into it more than he wanted to. 

“I feel like we both know what we need to talk about,” Morrell told him and Scott nodded. “How are you feeling after what happened?”

“I’m doing okay. Um, I’m a little bit on edge. Stiles says I’ve been jumpy and I keep getting really worried when Allison mentions going home for the day because I get worried that one of her parents or her aunt are going to pick her up.”

“That’s very normal,” she told him. “You did something where you constantly needed to be on high alert. It’s sometimes called hypervigilance. Whilst the point of it is to keep you safe, it can be very damaging to you long term.”

His heart sunk a little bit at her words. Scott had been realistic. He knew that the fact that he kept jumping at sudden noises or when Allison mentioned her family wasn’t good, that it would start making people get suspicious, but he was hoping that those would be the only problem. Now Morrell was telling him that he was going to have even more problems on top of that. 

“What do you mean by, uh, damaging?” Scott asked nervously. If it was really bad, then he felt like Morrell would have told him right away instead of leaving him alone with his thoughts for a while. 

“It makes you much more tired and fatigued because you’re on high alert all of the time whilst also making achieving good sleep harder,” she explained. He could fill in the blanks on that. Lack of sleep made you more irritable, more prone to little mistakes, more frustrated. It then affected relationships and school and work. Once it had done that, it was a cycle that gradually made life worse and worse until something changed. Scott shuddered a bit as he thought it over. Combining sleep deprivation frustration with his new werewolf aggression could be very messy. “What we’re going to work on is how to make sure that you’re getting sleep, to try and prevent the initial problems.”

He nodded and fidgeted with the strap of his backpack. It had a clip that was meant to go across his chest, supposedly keeping it in place better though Scott had never used it. The only use that the clip had ever had was when Stiles forgot to take his meds in the morning and needed something to keep his hands busy before he accidentally threw a pen he was fiddling with across the room. 

“How do I … what am I supposed to do to, uh, help stop it or help me sleep?”

“Well, do what you can to stick to the routine we’ve been talking about, stop work about a half an hour before you go to sleep, don’t do work or play on your phone whilst in bed, all of that. A good routine is the main thing that will help you,” Morrell told him kindly. Scott relaxed a little bit. “Do you remember when we were talking about grounding techniques?”

“The five things I can see, four things I can hear thing?”

“Exactly that. When you can feel yourself going down a path of what if, or if Stiles or someone else mentions that you’re getting jumpy, go through that until you can start to feel more yourself again.”

Making a mental note to write it down as soon as he could, Scott nodded again. He felt a little bit calmer knowing that he didn’t have to make too many changes, just doing more of the same. The clip in his hand clicked loudly which Morrell ignored. At the beginning of the sessions, Scott had explained why he fiddled with it and she had said that it was a good method for keeping himself calm. 

“Now, you don’t have to talk about it today, you don’t have to talk about it at all until you’re ready, but you haven’t explained what actually happened when you were at the Argents’ house. Is it because you don’t want to talk about it or that you just don’t have much to say?”

That made him pause. Other than the necessary things that he had mentioned like the bullets and the sheer number of guns that they kept in the house, facts that didn’t scare Laura and Deaton which scared Scott even more, he had kept the story entirely to himself. Scott wasn’t quite sure why. Actually, no, he knew exactly why he didn’t want to talk about it. He was embarrassed. 

Embarrassed about how he had acted and how scared he had been. How scared he had been during the dinner when Chris Argent was just talking about his dog. If they didn’t know he was a werewolf, and Scott was still alive and healthy so he doubted it, he had really been in no danger at all, no reason to be scared, or take so long to get the bullet for Derek. Scott didn’t want to admit that to anyone, even Morrell who was sworn to secrecy whilst they were in a session. He got the feeling that he was going to have to.

“How about we start with something that you have already talked about?” Morrell suggested after a few moments of silence. Scott nodded in agreement. “Okay, Laura mentioned that Chris Argent told you a story about having to put down his rabid dog. Even without everything else, that can be very upsetting. Do you want to talk about that?”

“Um, okay,” Scott replied, replaying the conversation in his head over and over again, trying to remember what he had already told them all. “He was talking about how he had dogs growing up, I mentioned I had a dog called Roxy. Then he was talking about all of the stages of rabies and the personality changes the animals go through and Allison’s mum said that Chris Argent’s dad put the dog down.”

At the mention of the last part, he heard Morrell’s heartbeat speed up and she had a brief flare of fear. Scott had gotten better and better at being able to tell what people were feeling based on the hormones he could smell on them. It was easiest with Stiles and his mum because he knew them best and it was useful to learn how to detect the different hormones. Morrell was the best at hiding her initial reactions, she was part of a very small group of people who even knew that some people could sense them, but even she couldn’t hide everything. 

He wondered what Allison’s grandfather was like to produce such a response.


	79. Magic Bullet Part Nineteen

It was a little early for dinner but Laura had had a small lunch. She didn’t even know if Derek had eaten other than the cereal she had seen him eat at breakfast. Their metabolisms weren’t unreasonably faster than humans but werewolves needed to eat more and more often than humans. Pizza wasn’t the healthiest meal for him but something was better than nothing and it was similar to what they would do in New York so Laura was hoping that it would bring back some happier moments. 

With the oven turned on to a low setting and Marin’s pizza being kept warm, they settled down at the kitchen table. 

Derek was silent for a little while longer as they began to eat and Laura didn’t mind it if he was eating and actually spending time with other people. He didn’t need to do everything all at once and he’d already managed to open up a little bit earlier. Laura was about half way through her second slice when he took in a deep breath, clearly steeling himself to do something. 

“Do you, uh, do you think any of the others will show up in town?” he asked. 

It was a question that she, Marin and Alan had debated quite a lot. None of them really knew why Kate Argent had shown up. After the fire, she was the most likely to get into legal trouble which hunters always tried to avoid. Laura had assumed that it was most probably a personal vendetta. Satomi’s pack were much less well-known and unlikely to have an upset on the scale that they were dealing with. A dangerous omega on the loose in the same town that she had destroyed most of a pack in most certainly would interest someone as sadistic as Kate Argent.

But the idea of Gerard Argent showing up would make everything worse. Laura could remember what he did not only to Deucalion’s pack but his own men. She had seen pictures and heard stories of what happened to betas like Ennis’ but Gerard was crueler than anything Laura could have been prepared for. Following their family traditions, he shouldn’t be the one in charge but she doubted that he was entirely out of control. 

“I’m not sure,” Laura answered honestly. “I guess it just depends on how much trouble Peter causes. If he’s caught early and hunters don’t learn about Scott, they’ll probably just move out of town and we’ll be left alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“No,” she admitted. “Hunters, especially Argents, especially Gerard, are unpredictable. But they’re fairly consistent in what they want and we can make guesses based on that.”

“They’re fairly consistent in wanting to murder us all,” Derek said darkly. 

She wasn’t sure exactly what Derek knew about what had happened to the other packs the last time that the Argents were in town. Peter had fed him some convoluted story about how Ennis had lost his beta and Laura didn’t know how to unravel the truths and lies of a story Derek may never want to talk about. They had all been on the run the night the beta had been killed, though Peter had been with Derek, because of the betas own actions, their mother had reminded them when they were all safe. 

Before Gerard’s attack, the hunters had followed their code. 

The only one who had been killed was the beta as a retaliation and the hunters hadn’t even spread out very far searching for the rest of them. It hadn’t felt like much of a silver lining at the time, Laur’s first night back in town on a break from uni, but Laura knew it could have easily been much worse. 

“Well, I’m definitely not defending them. But catching Peter, a rogue omega who is actually hurting people and from a known pack, will be a very big win for them. Going after us has a lot more risks but he doesn’t even exist, technically, and they might not try to push past that,” she explained. Laura had decided to keep quiet about the fact that they might use the situation to begin Allison’s training. It was a black and white situation. Peter was a monster that needed to be stopped and it made her parents look like the good guys. 

“Will we let them?” Derek asked, startling her out of her thoughts. 

“Will we let them what?”

“Will we let them … stop Peter? If we can’t get to him first?”

“If we can’t get to them first … we’re going to let them stop him, however they do it,” she agreed grimly. 

Derek chewed angrily on his pizza. If the conversation wasn’t so morbid, Laura would almost find it funny. Her own pizza didn’t taste as good as it had a few minutes before but she kept eating anyway. They stewed in the uncomfortable silence together for a while as they thought over the conversation. She wasn’t happy about the plans for Peter but Laura had had enough time to process it and know that it was right. Derek, who was still a little distanced from the decisions and the trouble that Peter was causing, it was going to take a while for him to come around to the idea. 

“He’s a monster,” her brother said suddenly. “The night he, um, the night he attacked you, his full shift … he was a monster. I didn’t even know he could fully shift.”

“The shape you take reflects the person you are,” Laura reminded him, almost not realising that the phrase had slipped out. It made her sound just like their grandmother. She hadn’t done a full shift since that night. Her stomach was healed, as healed as it might ever get, but Laura couldn’t bring herself to try just yet. “He’s revealed his true nature, I guess you could say.”

“In more ways than one.”

“Exactly. We have our traditions, the hunters have theirs,” she continued, remembering the spirals carved into animals in the preserve. “If we can’t stop Peter, they can destroy each other. Our focus is keeping everyone else out of it.”

He nodded. 

It was going to be much harder said than done. 

No matter how careful they were to keep Scott’s nature a secret, there were a lot of other problems they were also dealing with. Scott had told them what the Whittemore kid had been threatening him with and as unlikely as it was for a high schooler to genuinely believe and manage to convince another adult that werewolves were real, it was another problem they didn’t need. From what Laura remembered of being in high school, the quickest way to anger a teenager, especially a teenage boy who had suddenly become a werewolf, was to have them targeted by another teenager who had a higher social status and a ridiculous vendetta.

And that was ignoring Scott’s growing friendship with Allison. She still doubted that the girl knew about werewolves but the older she got, the more and more she would notice her family was, especially around the strange animal attacks that they followed around the country. 

At least Scott had his friend and Marin there to ease over the worst of the problems at the school. And, so long as Derek continued to be willing to help, Scott would have some additional help dealing with lacrosse, something that Laura didn’t have as many problems with. 

Laura glanced over at Derek. He was deep in thought and she could see the tension in his shoulder, brow furrowed. There were only a few crumbs of his pizza left so she nudged him into starting to tidy up. She had a little more work to do for the day and he could use that time to escape to his room for a while. They had done a lot of vulnerable talking and Laura wasn’t going to push it anymore than she already had. 

“I’m gonna go up and read for a bit,” Derek said when they had finished tidying up, Laura’s work folders back on the table as she checked that Marin’s pizza was still unburned. “I’ll come back down later.”

“Alright. Love you, Der.”

“Love you too.”


	80. Magic Bullet Part Twenty

“Well, I’m aware that we’ve been talking about quite a difficult topic,” Morrell was saying and Scott nodded. “Do you want to talk about something that might be on your mind? You mentioned that you had a dog.”

“Roxy,” he agreed. “She, uh, she died when I was about ten.”

“So, not quite a difficult topic. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. It was quite a few years ago. And it was how I met Dr Deaton as well and started working at the clinic so it’s not all unhappy memories.”

Scott couldn’t quite remember how Roxy had died, he had had a pretty bad asthma attack when something had first gone wrong. When he was allowed to leave the hospital, all Deaton was able to do for the dog was put her down so she wasn’t suffering anymore. He had looked away when Deaton did the injection but held Roxy’s bandaged paw and stroked over her head until she fell asleep. His strongest memory of the incident was of his mum crying and his dad, strangely, telling himself that Roxy had been a hero. 

“Do you enjoy working at the clinic?”

“Yeah, it’s great,” he told her, grinning. “At the beginning, it was mostly just cleaning out the cages and organising the stockroom because Deaton had to teach me a bunch of stuff but even that was good because then I could spend time with the animals and get used to them a bit more. I used to be a little bit afraid of cats because they were so different from dogs.”

“I’m glad that it’s something you enjoy,” Morrell said. “Is it something that you might be interested in doing as a career? Or something similar?”

“I’ve - uh - I’ve thought of it,” he admitted nervously. Scott had only ever mentioned the hope to his mum and Stiles. He didn’t doubt that Deaton also knew about it but neither of them had talked about it. “I know that I’d have to go to normal med school first and my mum’s told me about how that worked for her. But I - I like the idea of it.”

“Your mum’s a nurse, right?”

“Yeah, and my dad’s with the FBI.”

Saying that always got rather strong reactions. He understood it to a certain degree. There were over a dozen shows about how high-stakes it was and the only stories that ran in the news were the craziest ones. His dad had just explained it as a slightly higher status version of police work and that he normally just helped with other police departments. Scott assumed that that was what he was still doing. He hadn’t spoken to his dad properly in quite a while. 

“No interest in law enforcement? I imagine you know a lot about it with yours and Stiles’ dads.”

“I’ve never really been interested in it, no. Stiles talks about it sometimes but only really when it’s getting to the careers field time of year.”

Thinking about the future had always seemed far away but with everything that was going on, Scott couldn’t imagine actually being in a position to make those decisions. Everything was now revolving around the werewolf problems. There was Peter trying to make him kill or going to kill him, he had almost murdered Laura, his own niece, then there were the hunters and Scott didn’t even have an idea of how to begin dealing with Jackson. 

And even if he somehow managed to move past it all, he was still a werewolf for the rest of his life, Laura and Deaton had told him pretty definitively that there was no cure to being a werewolf. Only a few tall tales that shouldn’t be believed. Even with his anchor figured out, Scott struggled to imagine living with intense bloodlust once a month and hiding his strength and senses. The Argents weren’t the only werewolf hunters out there and he wouldn’t have the protections of being only a child much longer.

“Scott, are you alright?” Morrell asked him, her voice calm despite the strong scent of worry that he could now pick up. “You’ve gone very tense.”

“Just, uh, just lost in my thoughts,” he said and tapped the side of his thigh quickly. “I’m sorry. Were you saying something?”

“It wasn’t important, don’t worry. Do you want to talk about what you were thinking about?”

“Um, just that … there’s a lot of going on at the moment,” Scott began awkwardly. He couldn’t leave it at just that. “And, uh, it’s kind of hard to think about careers and stuff because of it. I mean, I just … can’t imagine this being over.”

“That’s very reasonable,” Morrell told him kindly. “It’s a lot of trauma all at once which is a lot for anyone to process. Your emotions are more extreme than they’ve ever been before. And on top of all of it, you’re only sixteen, a time when your brain isn’t even fully developed to help you.”

“My mum says that the brain fully develops at twenty-five. That feels like a lifetime away,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. 

“It’s nine years away. That’s over half of the time you’ve been alive. Do you know the difference between a teenager’s brain and an adult’s brain?” she asked. Scott shook his head. “Adults think with the prefrontal cortex, which is the part of your brain at the very front. It’s the rational part of the brain. A teenager uses the amygdala which is more the emotional part. At sixteen, your brain is still developing a lot and the connections between those parts of your brain aren’t as good as they will be when you’re an adult. It’s why someone who’s hellish as a freshman might be a completely different person at eighteen because they’ve grown up a lot more in just four years.

“Now, for you and all teenagers, it makes you prone to more emotional outbursts because you’re using the emotional part without the development of experience of the rational part. For you in particular, your emotions are suddenly even stronger with a lot of trauma. You’re dealing with what the average teenager is dealing with times a hundred. At that point, you will really struggle seeing outside of that because so much of your brain is focusing on everything else.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“You need to be kind to yourself. That’s the most important part. Understand why you’re thinking and feeling the way that you are and decide if it’s rational and something you should act upon or if it’s fear and overthinking, something to be dealt with differently,” Morrell explained to him. “And I need you to remember that you’re only sixteen. What’s going on with Peter and the Argents, even Jackson, is not your responsibility. What you did for Derek was very, very brave, Scott, but we’re going to do everything we can to make sure that it’s not the norm. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said. “So just … keep going?”

“More of a ‘remember you’re still human and only sixteen so it’s not on you to solve everything’,” Morrell explained. “If you start overthinking, do the grounding techniques until you feel a little more yourself and use the ‘worst outcome/best outcome/most likely outcome’ thing we talked about last time to try and deal with your fears. It’s going to be difficult and feel like it isn’t working for a while, but if you stick with it, it will help.”

The bell rang suddenly and Scott flinched from the pain. If he had time to prepare himself for the sound, hard to do with the broken clocks and bells in the school, then it didn’t hurt much. Morrell gave him a sympathetic look. 

“Laura struggled all through high school with the bell,” she said. “And coach’s whistle.”

“Yeah, it’s not always easy to deal with,” Scott said. He got up from his chair and slung on his backpack. “Um, thanks for this. And the stuff about the brain; it’s really interesting.”

“Well, if you are interested in it, the psych classes in your senior year will cover it in much more detail.”

“Cool,” Scott said. “I’ll see you next time.”

As he was going out of the door, Morrell picked up her phone and her heart sped up in the pattern that only happened around Laura. It made him grin a little bit and he headed down the hall, needing to visit his locker first before heading home. Scott had almost completely caught up on his school work and was feeling very optimistic about getting to the position he had been in before becoming a werewolf. 

Also walking down the hall was Lydia, surprisingly by herself. Given that the people she would most likely be around were Allison or Jackson, Scott was a little relieved about that part. 

She was on her phone, talking quietly making sure that no one else around could hear. He felt a little guilty about how easily he could hear both halves of the conversation. It was an older woman on the other end, most probably Lydia’s mum, and her voice was a little amused. No one at school would consider laughing at Lydia Martin, she was smart enough to always have a comeback, and that was enough to stop Scott from trying to block out the conversation. 

“It’s not a big deal, mum, it’s just balloons,” she was telling her mum, sounding harried. “And, obviously, a present. It’s a societal expectation; you can’t just not buy a present. Really, not a big deal.”

“Of course it’s not,” her mother said, the amusement growing. “I’m just a little surprised that you want to do all of this for the first time ever. Are you ready to meet up immediately at the mall or do you need to take care of somethings first?”

“I’ll see you there right away,” Lydia replied. “Love you.”

“I love you too.”

Scott looked into his locker resolutely as Lydia walked through the hallway, staring at his textbooks and spare stationary, until she left through the main door. He let out a relieved sigh and he took off his backpack to put his textbooks away. As she was zipping it up, his phone buzzed in his pocket a few times, signalling multiple text messages coming through. It was undoubtedly Stiles who had been at home listening to the police radio for an hour. He could only hope that it was because Stiles had gotten distracted as opposed to someone getting seriously hurt or murdered. 

_ Hey, Scotty. Guess what? _ \- Stiles.

_ Heard a message on the radio _ \- Stiles.

_ They’ve all got a build up of paperwork because of some error on an old case _ \- Stiles.

_ Dad’s gonna be out all night so I asked for him to order pizza _ \- Stiles.

_ Wanna come over to work on the history project? _ \- Stiles.

Smiling and making sure that he had his history textbook and folder in his bag, Scott opened up his messages. 

_ I’ll be there in twenty, thanks _ \- Scott. 


	81. The Tell Part One

Laura was just falling asleep as she felt it.

She knew from a young age that wolves howled to signal where they were to the rest of the pack. It was when she had first learned to howl and how she had helped Derek and Cora learn. But it wasn’t the only way that werewolves could signal to each other and that was the problem with Peter. Despite Laura being the alpha, he still had a lot of control over Scott and that would continue to at least the next full moon. No matter how hard any of them tried, he would keep that control for a while longer. 

Another way that werewolves could signal to each other was through a pack bond. It was the part that strengthened them, more and more with the amount of people in the pack, and it made Laura feel a little sick to think that Peter was still connected to them. Her scar throbbed at the thought.

Next to her, Marin was still fast asleep and, as much as she didn’t want to wake her wife up, Laura knew it would be even worse if she woke up and Laura wasn’t there without any explanation. She sat up in bed and made sure that the blankets were definitely covering her. Laura reached over and squeezed her shoulder until Marin started to stir. After a few moments, her eyes were fluttering open, only just managing to focus on Laura, heavy with sleep. It took another few moments before Marin was awake for them to talk. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice a little raspy. “Bad dream?”

“No, no, I’m alright,” Laura promised. “I can feel Peter calling. He’s definitely got Scott. I need to make sure that nothing goes wrong. 

“Do you need me to come with you?”

“No. I think it will be just making sure Scott’s alright and that he gets home.”

“Are you sure? He’s never directly called for you since he attacked you.”

Marin was definitely right. Normally that would reassure Laura but under these circumstances it wasn’t the news that she wanted to hear. Sighing, she pressed a kiss to her wife’s temple and tucked her in a little more. There was definitely a reason that Peter was suddenly calling for her and, based on everything that had been happening recently, Laura wasn’t excited to find out what the reason was. 

“It’ll be okay,” she said. “And you need to get your sleep. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that it’s parent-teacher night today.”

“I want to forget that,” Marin grumbled as she burrowed deeper under the blankets. “It’s genuinely the worst part about this job. And I spent two hours with Harris yesterday.”

Laura laughed a little bit as she climbed out of bed. The chill that hit her once the blankets were gone fully woke her up. She quickly pulled on her clothes and started doing up her boots. There was no need to take the car; Peter was close enough to walk and it would only draw unwanted attention her way. Besides, with the speed limits on the town road, Laura could run faster if the situation really called for it. Marin was still laid in bed but Laura could hear from her heartbeat that she was neither asleep nor getting close.

“I’m going to be fine,” Laura said, kneeling down by Marin’s side of the bed. “Try and get some more sleep and I’ll be back before you know it - waking you up with how cold I am.”

“If he attacks you again,” she started to say.

“If he attacks me again, I can teach him. He had surprise last time. And even if he tries to force Scott, Scott can stop that. If it gets really bad, I can stop that. I’ll be back soon. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

They kissed softly, Laura stroking Marin’s hair out of her face, before she pulled away, Peter’s call becoming more and more consistent. If he was actively calling her again, it could only mean trouble. And, if he was as close as Laura thought he was, that trouble could put a lot more people in danger than there were already. When she stepped out the back door, she shivered. A cold night meant people were less likely to go traipsing around the preserve so at least they had that going for them. She started walking down the path to the back of the houses, listening as Peter called. There were no howls so he didn’t seem to be interested in hunters. 

She had no idea what he wanted anymore, beyond gruesome spirals carved into animals. 

<>

It was cold as he ran through the streets. Peter had called him in the night. Scott could still feel something in his head calling him to wherever the werewolf was. Unlike before, he still had control of himself, if he wanted, Scott was fairly certain that he could ignore the call and just curl up in his bed until it passed. But he knew that Peter could be hurting people, he knew that Peter already had hurt people, and there weren’t very many people who knew about it to try and stop him. Scott wasn’t particularly thrilled about the methods that were going to be used to stop Peter. 

He vaguely knew where he was headed but it wasn’t exactly the direction he was expecting to go. It wasn't the busiest part of the town but it wasn’t even midnight yet and there was definitely the chance that there was going to be a lot of people. Scott didn’t know if Laura or Derek were out or if they even knew that Peter was out but he was keeping quiet and sticking to the shadows just in case he was alone. Even if there was nothing going on, he didn’t want the police called on him if someone in their house saw them creeping around at night. 

Up ahead, there were familiar scents which wasn’t a great thing.

With the video store up ahead, he saw a person walking on the roof. After taking a moment to breathe in the scent, Scott recognised Derek up there. He walked around the wire linked fences at the back and braced himself. The building wasn’t too tall and there were small ledges underneath the windows that would be useful. Taking a deep breath in, Scott took a few steps away and ran at the wall. He jumped, used one of the ledges to push himself up with the momentum, Scott rolled onto the roof a little clumsily, but not as bad as he worried it would be. Derek looked over at him in surprised confusion.

“You alright?” he asked gruffly.

“Yeah,” Scott replied. “You?”

“Fine.”

“Cool.”

For a while they waited in silence, Scott pulled himself up to be sitting on the roof, as cars drove by. It wasn’t too late; he knew Stiles and the sheriff were getting a late dinner based on the texts he had read before leaving, but Peter was apparently still on the prowl. Knowing that unsettled Scott a little bit. They were supposed to remain hidden, that was one of the biggest rules he had been taught, but it was beginning to seem like the other wolf didn’t care at all, even when it risked his own life. 

“Laura texted me,” Derek said, surprising Scott a little bit. “She’s on her way already. Be here soon.”

“Okay,” he replied. Looking over the roof, it was a lot grosser than he had initially thought it would be with dirt and abandoned broken down boxes pretty much everywhere. There was something strange in the corner of the roof. It had been slightly cleaned up, Scott noticed, but there was still something left on the floor. “What is that?”

He got closer and heard Derek’s heartbeat speed up. There was also a mix of fear and guilt as well in his scent. It made Scott slow his step but he still approached. 

There was a line etched into the roof, a spiral. It looked like it had been scratched by claws and there was no animal that Scott had ever heard of that would do something like that. The only cause that he could think of was a werewolf. But he had no idea why there was a spiral and how important it was or might be. Derek definitely did if his reaction and refusal to go near it was anything to go by.

Two commotions happened at the same time. A car pulled into the car park of the video store, a very familiar Porsche, as Laura pulled herself on top of the roof with ease. Scott smiled at her nervously. He wasn’t supposed to be out, technically, but it wasn’t too late and he had been in control of himself and that was good. She smiled back at him but the smile fell when she saw the spiral. It made her heart speed up nervously. Before Scott could ask anything, he heard familiar voices arguing. 


	82. The Tell Part Two

“Now,  _ Hoosiers _ is not only the best basketball movie ever, it is the best sports movie ever made,” Jackson was saying with a great deal of passion. Scott could remember hearing them have a similar argument over lunch. 

“No,” Lydia told him simply, the same way that she had replied at lunch.

“It’s got Gene Hackman and Dennis Hopper.”

“No.”

“Lydia, I swear to god you’re gonna like it.”

“No.”

“I am not watching  _ The Notebook _ again!”

“He’s absolutely watching  _ The Notebook _ again,” Scott said quietly as Jackson huffily got out of his car. Laura snorted it a bit. 

“Shame.  _ Hoosiers _ is a good movie. Dad used to watch it all of the time,” she said. It had lightened the mood a little bit, even as Jackson slammed the door of the video store, but there was an elephant in the room or, at least, on the roof, about the spiral. 

“What does it, uh, what does it mean?” Scott asked. He didn’t need to explain himself any further. 

“Revenge,” Derek told him. Laura rolled her eyes.

“Let’s not be too dramatic, Der,” she said. She turned back to Scott. “It does mean revenge but not just the simple meaning. It isn’t that the spiral is revenge, it’s that revenge is a spiral. Someone does something to you, so you do something worse to them, they then do something worse to you, and it continues until you destroy each other.”

“So, if you don’t stop trying to get revenge, you’re going to die,” he summarised.

“More or less,” Laura shrugged. “If you’re stuck in a spiral of revenge, you have to be the one to stop it.”

“Can someone help me find  _ The Notebook _ ?” Jackson asked loudly from inside the store. He wouldn’t be surprised if even Lydia could hear him. The captain had never been called subtle. “Hello? Is anybody working here?”

A phone was ringing loudly and Jackson continued calling out. Scott was pretty certain that he had heard someone else in the store, someone had been fiddling with the lights and causing things to hit the roof from below, but now there was no one responding. His nerves began to rise and the force in his mind that had pulled him out of bed was suddenly tugging as well. Laura and Derek had noticed a change and were on high alert, looking around the building in case something suddenly approached. The preserve wasn’t too far away. Any animal could have reached the store without being seen so late in the evening. A werewolf would manage it easily. 

Laura took in a deep breath and flinched. 

“Blood,” she said quickly. “Someone’s been hurt, badly.”

There was a loud thud from down below and the lights began flickering madly. 

“How the hell did he get in the building?” Derek asked.

“He must not have been fully shifted,” Laura replied, stressed. She glanced down at the car, looking at Lydia. “If he’s got control, he’s thought this through. We have to be careful, he wanted us here for a reason.”

“Jackson’s still in there,” Scott pointed out.

He could hear the other boy’s panic. Scott had seen Laura’s scar. If that was what Peter was willing and able to do to his own niece, to someone who healed quickly and could defend herself, he had a very good idea, a very gory idea, of what he could do to someone who couldn’t defend themselves, of someone who wasn’t family. As much as Jackson sucked, he shouldn’t have to see that or, even worse, be attacked by a monster himself. 

“And I will make sure that Peter doesn’t hurt him,” she promised. “But you and Derek need to stay up here, okay?”

A growl sounded from the store, low and quiet. 

“Stay here,” Laura reiterated with a pointed look at Derek. “Call the police, it’ll need to be reported as quickly as possible.

She went to the edge of the roof and jumped down, at the back of the building. The backdoor was opened forcefully, Scott heard the scraping of claws, and Laura went inside. Derek looked like he was torn between staying with Scott, calling the police, and going to join his sister. There was another growl, louder that time, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket angrily.

“911, what’s your emergency?” the calm voice on the other end of the line asked.

“I saw an animal, a mountain lion or something, heading to the video store in town. The police said to keep an eye out for things like that. I saw two kids driving towards it.”

“Thank you, sir, are you able to stay on the line?”

“No, sorry, I’ve got bad reception, my phone’s been-” Derek cut the call as he was midway through the word. At Scott’s questioning look, he explained, “They won’t assume you hung up if you were the one speaking.”

<>

Peter must have hidden his scent. 

The only trace of him she could find was from the presence a few aisles over, growling and approaching the teenager slowly. Blood overpowered most of the scents of the building anyway. Jackson was obviously terrified. His scent was filled with fear and adrenaline, his heart pounding almost dangerously fast, and he was gasping for breath. There was also something strange in his scent, as if he was somehow sick, but Laura couldn’t quite catch what it was.

Her main concern was Peter, whatever it was. Peter, who was darting between the aisles and making the cases fall to the floor, scaring the kid even more. He was playing with Jackson’s fear. 

Laura crept carefully, not bothering to hide her scent since Peter already knew they were all there, and found the source of the blood. The clerk that had been working there was lying on the floor, his throat gouged out. It was clearly done by animal claws but there were no other wounds or signs of an animal attack. Peter was pushing it a little too much, like he wanted to be caught by the hunters. Based on the spiral on the roof, he probably did. He was getting their attention through innocents. 

The shelves were suddenly knocked down in a domino effect and hit Jackson, pinning his legs as he tried to escape. He cried out in fear, thrashing as he tried to pull free, and Laura saw Peter, fully shifted at that point, approach him almost lazily, eyes flashing a bright blue. Peter stood over the kid, clawed paw brushing over the back of his neck. 

Something made him pause.

She caught the scent of whatever Jackson was sick with again, even stronger, and it was very familiar. Whatever it was was definitely supernatural but that just brought up more questions. If Jackson had really been looking into what was happening with Scott, there was a chance that he had been messing around with a lot of things he didn’t understand the danger or importance of. Peter sniffed the kid’s neck before suddenly jumping away, crashing out of the window. 

Laura pulled the shelf carefully as Jackson tried to wiggle free, taking the worst of the weight off of his legs, and he managed to get out. In the car park, Lydia screamed in fear as Peter bounded past the car. She bit back a curse. 

It was easy to stay hidden from Jackson, the lights were broken and he was desperately stumbling towards the main entrance, and she got back up to the roof again. Scott and Derek were sat huddled by the spiral, staring as they watched Peter disappear into the night. He was gone too quickly and too in plain sight for them to have a good chance at chasing him. The thought didn’t stop the guilt at her lack of action in regards to it.

“Is Jackson hurt?” Scott asked quickly.

“Some of the shelves fell on him, but he’s alright,” she replied. Below them, Jackson was calling the police. Laura could hear sirens in the distance. “It was the store clerk. Peter killed him, no more than a minute or so before Jackson went inside.”

“Why would Peter want to get revenge against a store clerk?”

“I have no idea.”

She looked over at the car again. 

Nothing was damaged, Peter had left the car alone as he ran, but the Martin girl was still sitting in there, looking in shock. She’d just seen a fully shifted werewolf with glowing blue eyes and someone she obviously trusted was now telling her about how it had tracked him and killed someone. Laura didn’t know the specifics of what could trigger a latent supernatural but banshees were normally triggered around death and they were definitely under circumstances that could do that. 

At some point tomorrow, she would need to pay Natalie Martin a visit to make sure another innocent kid had been dragged into this world. 

“Police will be here any minute now,” Derek told her. “We’ll need to stay up here for a while to avoid being spotted by the kids.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. Laura pulled her phone out and sent a few texts to Marin and Alan, explaining what had happened. 


	83. The Tell Part Three

Scott’s phone beeped a few minutes later, a message from Stiles about the sheriff getting a ‘possible 187’ - murder. It was followed, in a rather bad code that the sheriff could probably crack if he wanted to, if it had anything to do with Peter. He texted back that it did but that the werewolf was gone now. No need to freak his friend out anymore than he was already. Stiles tended to be very protective of his dad. 

An ambulance arrived a little while after that, followed by a deputy’s car who began taping the area off before going inside. The paramedics were the ones talking to Jackson and Lydia, going through the motions of treating them for shock. Jackson was not having any of it. 

“I’m feeling fine!” he yelled. “I want to get home and you guys are supposed to catch whatever the hell that thing was that killed the guy!”

He definitely wasn’t being subtle about what he was feeling but that wasn’t new. Out of the many words that could be used to describe Jackson, several of those inappropriate and rude, subtle had never been one of them. Whenever he got too loud or rowdy, he was shushed by one of the paramedics by them gesturing at Lydia who was really struggling with it all. She was sitting on the steps of the ambulance, arms wrapped around herself despite declining a shock blanket, and staring blankly ahead.

Laura was keeping an eye on the girl as well but Scott got the feeling it was about more than making sure she was okay. It had been Jackson that Peter had nearly killed; he’d barely even looked at Lydia when he ran past. 

“We should probably hear how the sheriff will proceed with it,” Derek said. “If it’s suspected murder, it might take the heat off of us for a bit, make the hunters have to be more careful.”

“Why will a murder make them more careful?” Scott asked.

“We all have to keep the supernatural world quiet,” Laura explained. “We don’t want hunters to get us or scientists or other people who might hurt us. Technically, according to their code, they only hunt the wolves that hurt people, to protect regular humans. If regular humans found out about the supernatural, everything would go to hell. 

“Since hunters usually have questionable records, the Argents sell weapons, even legally that causes people to take notice, and if you have a series of murders right when a family with questionable records moves in, you’re going to at the very least keep an eye on them. But, I saw the body. They’re unlikely to class it as murder. It definitely looks like an animal did it.”

Another car arrived, this time the sheriff’s car. Scott heard the sheriff tell Stiles to stay in, a feat most likely made even more difficult by the fact that his friend had definitely seen Lydia, and then got out of the car to start ordering deputies about. 

“Why can’t I just go home?” Jackson exclaimed again, directing his anger at the sheriff this time. “I’m fine.”

“I hear ya, but the EMT says you hit your head pretty hard. They just want to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

Immediately, Scott started running through the signs of a concussion, his mum having drilled it into his head when he said he wanted to try out for the team freshmen year, and another part of his brain started reminding him of all of the complications if Jackson went untreated for it. Sitting out for the rest of the season would be a best possible scenario if Jackson really did have a concussion.

“What part of ‘I’m fine’ are you having a problem grasping? I want to go home.”

“And I understand that.”

“No, you don’t understand, which kind of blows my mind, since it should be a pretty basic concept to grasp for a minimum wage rent-a-cop like you! Okay, I wanna go home!”

He was practically screaming by the end of the sentence and drawing a lot of attention to himself. It wasn’t just anger or frustration at that point, though there was more than enough of those two emotions, but a bit of fear as well. Scott couldn’t blame him. Something unbelievable just happened to him, on top of trauma, and it was unlikely the police would ever be able to give him an answer that explained it all. 

“Oh, woah, is that a dead body?” Stiles exclaimed, having gotten out of the car at some point, distracting everyone from Jackson. 

A sheet covered gurney was being wheeled out, a bloodied arm hanging over the side. There were quite a few gasps of horror. The sheriff gave Stiles a tired look before starting to move the crowd again, away from the store and the ambulance. Despite it all, Lydia was still just sitting there, holding herself. 

“Why is he killing these people?” Scott asked. “Don’t victims normally have something in common? Especially if he’s saying that he’s doing it for revenge. I mean, this isn’t standard practice, right?”

“He wants to draw the hunters out,” Derek said. “We kill innocents, the hunters have every reason to kill us according to their code.”

“They might still have something in common,” Laura told them slowly. “If he’s being this elaborate with everything, he’s probably picking the victims for a reason. I’ll start to check if they have any links to the Argents, see if they had any contact with the family. Having people they know personally being killed will unsettle them more than strangers.”

  
  


<>

Laura sent Derek to walk Scott home, both because Peter could still be out there as well as the fact that it was late and Scott was only sixteen, reminding them both to text her when they got home safely. As they got off the roof, she gave him a pointed look, reminding him about the talk he promised to have with Scott about struggling with control when playing sports. She didn’t have very far to walk and although her breath misted, she didn’t feel cold when she got into the house. 

Upstairs, Marin was still asleep, her breathing slow and steady, and Laura took a moment to calm herself before going up. 

Admittedly, she wasn’t sure when the Argent family would have met a video store clerk and bus driver in the few weeks they had been in town but everything else Peter had been doing was so calculated that she just knew his choice in victims had to be as well. Even when she doubted herself, Laura remembered how Myers had recognised her, apologised to her, even when dying in incredible pain in his hospital bed. The connection could be with them as well. 

She switched on her phone again and went to Natalie Martin’s contact. The woman would be awake by now; either the hospital or the police would have called her to tell her what had happened. Whilst Natalie, in her own words, was not a particularly powerful banshee, she would have heard something about a death so close to her own daughter and at the very least would suspect the supernatural given everything that was going on. Laura would have to explain some of what was happening. 

Getting changed, Laura got into bed behind Marin who had stolen her pillow at some point whilst she was gone and had moved closer to the centre of the bed. Her wife shivered awake.

“Your hands are freezing, Laur,” she whispered. 

“My nose is even colder,” Laura replied, pressing it to the back of Marin’s neck. She was rewarded an offended aqueal in response. “I’m sorry, babe.”

“It’s alright. What happened?”

“Peter killed the clerk at the video store. Spiral on the roof. The Whittemore kid and Natalie Martin’s girl were there. Peter ran right past her, she looked in shock. That’s not enough to trigger her into becoming a banshee, is it?”

“Just seeing a werewolf? No, probably not. Most likely outcome is that she’ll try to rationalise and forget. It does mean if she sees other things or meets banshees other than her mum, it’s much more likely to set her off. We should probably talk to Natalie at some point. I don’t have Lydia in my class so I won’t be able to at parent teacher night.”

“I’ve texted her, we can organise something. I just don’t want another kid sucked into all of this. Especially not because of Peter.”

Marin hummed in agreement, falling back to sleep again, and Laura moved a little closer, soaking up as much warmth as she could. Werewolves tended to run hotter than humans but she’d been outside, on a roof, for a while and her mind was going into overdrive filling her with anxiety. Not doing much to help her body self-regulate. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand and she reached over to check it.

A message from Scott saying that he was safely home and a message from Derek to say that he was at his own place as well. Laura decided not to think about how conspicuous her brother must have been to reach it so quickly. 


	84. The Tell Part Four

All anyone was talking about in school the next morning was the attack on the video store and how much Lydia and Jackson might have seen of the murder or the murderer. Stiles had already texted him asking for every detail and Scott sent him back everything he knew. There wasn’t much more than the sheriff already knew. All Scott knew more than the police was that Peter had done it and he didn’t have any evidence unless he wanted to reveal the existence of werewolves to the rest of the world. 

Since he had just about managed to keep his grades passing in all of his classes, he wasn’t required to be at any of the meetings with his mum at the parent teacher night later, which meant he didn’t have to be there when his teachers told her all about them dropping, but he had Harris today who might force him to go anyway for any perceived slight. Scott was looking forward to chemistry even less than he normally was which was quite an achievement. 

Derek had talked to him, very awkwardly, on the walk home about how he used to play basketball when in high school. Scott had vaguely remembered seeing the name Hale on a few trophies in the cases that the coach kept very polished. 

He talked about struggling with control when he was about the same age as Scott and how it had hurt, physically hurt, him to stay fully human. Scott asked about his anchor, expecting it to be family, maybe a friend, maybe just a specific memory. The answer that he got, whilst a little surprising, definitely fit with what he already knew about Derek and everything about how the older werewolf acted around people. 

Anger.

His tie to his humanity was achieved through the emotion of anger. It couldn’t be healthy, and definitely indicated that was something going on with him if his actions and overall demeanour didn’t give it away, but Scott kept that to himself. As much as it was obvious that Derek wasn’t doing great, it wasn’t his place to ask if he didn’t want to tell. And it probably didn’t feel great to have been shot and poisoned only the other day when most of his rather small family was out of town. 

Whilst their sports didn’t exactly overlap, they were still team sports and, most importantly, they were still led by coach who thought that yelling and insulting students, making even the most level-headed human students lose their cool sometimes, was the best way to teach. Derek had even had him for economics one year like Scott currently did. Apparently in basketball, if they didn’t meet whatever standard coach had set for them that day, they had to try and get the same ball through the net twenty times in whatever physically impossible time frame that coach had set them until he was bored mocking them. 

When Derek had been picked on to do it, his claws had accidentally come out when he caught the ball and the ball burst, very loudly. Another time, he had tried to make a difficult shot and it had shattered the headboard. Based on his own experiences in gym, that wasn’t too uncommon an occurrence but it would definitely stop practice for a while when they waited for the shards of plastic to be collected.

He was still thinking about it when he got off his bike, being careful to weave in between the cars and students not looking where they were going. The school car park was getting busier and busier after the curfew had been put into place and that morning it was the worst, undoubtedly because of the attack the night before that involved two highschoolers. Scott wasn’t even sure if they would be in school today, especially if Jackson had actually had a concussion. 

Of course, irritability was a common trait of Jackson’s and there was nothing out of the ordinary with his words or actions either so he was probably okay. Lydia might have the day off if she had been in shock, just to keep an eye on her. 

Stiles wasn’t in school yet when he got inside so he went to his locker and grabbed the books he needed, double-checking his folders for the right homework. When he was all done, he checked his phone again but Stiles still wasn’t in. It wasn’t much of a surprise; Stiles would have spent the previous night and all morning trying to squeeze every little detail out of his dad. Realistically, if he made it to homeroom in time, he should probably consider it a win. 

Instead Scott began walking slowly to homeroom when he spotted a familiar face. 

He walked over to Allison who was opening her locker, brow furrowed a little as she focused on the key. Most of the locks were pretty bad quality and a good dozen were replaced each week. Scott could hear the squeak as the metal was forced to do its job. As soon as the locker door was open however, brightly coloured balloons immediately fell out and she hurriedly tried to stuff them back in, looking around to see if anyone had spotted it. No one paid it much attention. Putting strange things in lockers wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. The best incident had been the three frogs put in Greenberg’s the year before. 

Just as she was about to close the door, she pulled a card off of the inside of it, opening it to read who had stuffed her locker. Scott slowed his walk, wanting to at least wish her happy birthday or find out what the celebration was. 

“Is today your birthday?” he asked. 

“No, no, no. I mean, yes,” Allison said quickly. Some of the balloons escaped as she was talking and she quickly reined them back in again. “Please don’t tell anybody. I don’t even know how Lydia found out.”

The answer was probably best answered with ‘because she’s Lydia Martin’ but Allison hadn’t been in Beacon long enough to fully understand how much of a complete answer that was. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want people to know. Because …” she trailed off and remained staring into her locker nervously. When she finished the sentence, her voice was very quiet. “I’m seventeen.”

“You’re seventeen?” he was definitely a little shocked.

“That’s the reaction I’m trying to avoid.”

“Why. I mean, I totally get it,” Scott said. It made sense. He’d been struggling to catch up with homework and tests and it had only been going on for a month. If Allison had been moving around even half as much as she said she had, it was a miracle she was only held back for one grade. “Uh, you had to repeat a year because of all the moving around, right?”

Allison gave him a very surprised look as she closed her locker. “Thank you.”

“What was that for?”

“For literally being the first person to ever make the correct assumption. Everybody’s always like ‘What? Did you get held back?’ ‘Did you ride the short bus?’ Uh, ‘Did you have a baby?’”

“That’s what you hear on your birthday?” It couldn’t be fun.

“Oh yeah. All day long.”

There was so much resigned tiredness to the way she said it that Scott’s heart clenched. He’d had some pretty bad birthdays. Dealing with Jackson, coach using the opportunity to mock him more, the first few years when he believed his dad that he would come. Going to school was always the last thing he wanted to do when he knew it would be bad specifically because it was his birthday. A thought occurred to him. 

It maybe wasn’t the best idea given his current academic record but he’d caught his grades up, there wasn’t much he could do about the Peter situation and avoiding Jackson was probably the best course of action, so it wasn’t the worst idea, either.

“Then, what if we got out of here?”

“Skip class?”

“Yeah, the whole day.”

“Well, you’re asking someone who’s never skipped one class to bail out the entire day, and I don’t …”

“No, see, that’s perfect,” Scott continued, grinning. “If you get caught, they’ll go easy on you.”

“Well, what if you get caught?”

“Let’s try not to think about that,” he replied and Allison locked her locker again, the balloons safely hidden away for the time being. Hopefully by tomorrow morning they would be mostly deflated enough that they could be shoved in a bin without anyone noticing. 

With students still coming in and parents dropping them off, it was easy to move about the car park without anyone noticing that they were leaving the school as opposed to entering. Allison, thankfully, had her car which made them much less conspicuous than the two of them going on Scott’s bike. 


	85. The Tell Part Five

It was a slow morning at the office and Laura was up to date on her paperwork, which was the equivalent of being about two weeks ahead, really. What it meant, however, was that she could head out to pay a visit to Natalie Martin who had very quickly said yes to an offer to talk about what had happened the night before as well as, presumably, everything else that was happening in Beacon. It wasn’t going to be a fun conversation by any stretch of the imagination. 

Marin had texted her earlier saying that Lydia was marked in the register as sick so the girl was definitely still at home. She hoped that it was because of shock and not suddenly hearing the premonitions of possible deaths in town. 

“Laura, wonderful to see you again,” Natalie said as she opened the door again. As controlled and relaxed as her tone was, stress was practically emanating off of her. “I know it’s probably rather cliche but you really do seem to get more and more mature every time I see you.”

“It might be cliche but it is nice to hear. How have you been?”

Laura hadn’t been the one to handle the divorce itself, she wasn’t that type of lawyer, but she knew the person who did and knew it hadn’t exactly been pretty when it came to things like custody. About a year had passed since then but they hadn’t spoken in that time. She couldn’t bring it up specifically but that was a vague enough statement that Natalie could choose whether or not she wanted to bring it up. 

“Well, work is work but it’s nothing too stressful, thankfully,” she replied. “And the holidays are over so the custody arguments are all over as well.”

“Was the wording in the agreement too vague?”

“No, it was very specific, but it was very specific in that Lydia could pick who she wanted to be with because, obviously, she’s sixteen and old enough to decide for herself. During school it’s fine but the holidays are always difficult.”

They walked through to the kitchen and sat at the table. Laura could hear another person upstairs, their heartbeat slow as if they were asleep, and assumed that it was Lydia. At least if her heartbeat and breathing was calm, it meant no nightmares. Natalie started moving about, getting mugs and a pot down.

“Can I get you a drink? I still have some of Satomi’s tea, if you’d like.”

“Oh, yes, please.”

Her mother had always drank it on Sunday mornings and whenever Satomi herself visited the house. Derek always headed out of the house whenever their mother made the tea, hating the smell of it, but Laura quite liked it and, because she was meant to be the next alpha, it was expected that she should meet with other alphas in the area. As soon as Natalie started making the tea, all of the memories came rushing back, almost overwhelmingly. 

“How is Lydia doing after last night?”

“She’s in shock,” Natalie sighed, running a hand through her hair before finishing with the tea and bringing the mugs over to the table, sitting in front of Laura. “The video clerk was killed, Jackson was attacked, she saw a monster running past her … it’s a lot to process. And doesn’t have any awareness of the supernatural because I haven’t told her so there’s also the problem of her maybe being forced to believe in it.

“You know, I’ve always wondered if I should have told her when she was younger, warned her about something, but I never have. I just didn’t think that something like this would happen. Maybe becoming friends with a werewolf or something, there are enough packs in Beacon for that to happen, but not seeing some sort of attack.”

“If it does help, I really don’t think that the attack had anything to do with Lydia,” she said. “I think she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Do you know who the attacker was? I didn’t think Deucalion would come back to Beacon and I don’t know of any werewolves that might go around attacking people.”

Laura hesitated for a moment, realising how little Natalie knew of how bad things had gotten. “It was - uh - it was Peter. He’s been behind all of the attacks in town.”

“What? I thought he was still comatose.”

“He woke up a few weeks ago. Attacked me in the preserve. He wanted to become the alpha. I lived, clearly, but he’s not exactly talking to us at the moment and we don’t really know why he’s attacking other people.”

Natalie went pale. She had to remind herself that Natalie knew her uncle in a very different way to her. For Natalie, Peter was still her late friend’s little brother who had been trapped in a hospital bed for the past decade. Laura had been attacked by Peter and she still had a hard time remembering that he was no longer the uncle that had looked after her and her siblings, it would be even harder for Natalie to understand it all. 

“Peter? He woke up? I thought that they didn’t think he would recover.”

“Werewolf healing is a strange, unpredictable thing. He killed the bus driver, the video clerk, he’s been running around town at night howling constantly.”

“And with the Argents in town ...” she began. “I guess I hoped that it was maybe a coincidence. I mean, their daughter’s Lydia’s age. And she’s a good kid. I thought that maybe they would be here for a few months, find out that it really is only a mountain lion, and the only problem I would have to deal with is Lydia losing a new friend. Now …”

“Hunters won’t go for banshees,” Laura reminded her. “Especially a kid who didn’t inherit it from a parent that they don’t know is a banshee. They might pester Allison to ask Lydia about the attack, but they want to contain just as much as we do, just in rather different ways. Having Lydia suddenly start believing in the supernatural wouldn’t do much to help them.”

“She hasn’t shown any signs just yet. I’m keeping an eye on her, asking her if she’s had any nightmares, seeing if she reacts to the same things I’ve been hearing recently but there’s been nothing, thank god. I mean, I know I’m not the most powerful but if she takes after my mother … I don’t want to think about what she might be hearing with hunters and loose werewolves in town.”

“Marin’s said that seeing Peter last night is pretty unlikely to trigger anything,” Laura said. “She barely saw Peter and, most importantly in her case, she didn’t see the kill. And so long as she stays away from any more attacks, if there is anything latent in her, it won’t be triggered.”

Some of the tension in Natalie’s shoulders dropped and she nodded understandingly. “I was hoping for that but it’s nice hearing it from someone who understands it better. How are you and Marin, by the way?”

“We’re good, actually, thank you,” Laura replied, perking up at the change of conversation. “We’re thinking of getting a cat sometime in the future. Alan runs adoptions in the summer out of the clinic so we’re thinking of looking into it then.”

There was a quiet commotion upstairs and a small dog rushed down the stairs and headed straight for Laura, standing in the way of Natalie. It was black and white with very fluffy ears and dark eyes watching her very carefully. She grinned and bent down to the dog, holding her hand out for the dog to sniff. Dogs could be a little hit or miss when it came to liking werewolves right away, Scott had mentioned struggling with it at the clinic at first as well, but the one in front of her took only one second before relenting and moving forward for affection. 

“She’s been with Lydia since last night,” Natalie said. “Not the most threatening guard dog but it made me feel a little better knowing that she was there. And I think it helped Lydia as well.”

“Something familiar, at the very least.” The dog pawed at her leg, looking up at Laura expectantly, and, after testing it, she picked her up onto her lap, settling her there as the scratched behind the dog’s ears. Once she had decided that Laura was a safe person to trust, the dog laid down on her lap and began to fall asleep. “Aw, that is so sweet. What’s her name?”

“Prada. Lydia named her. Elliott bought her for Lydia for Christmas a few years back. I believe she said the phrase ‘best day ever’ about twenty times.”

“I think most kids would consider that the best day ever.”

Laura remembered the Christmas she got her first proper bike and how excited she had been. For a kid, a puppy and a bike were some of the most wanted presents. Before she could say anything else, she heard a noise upstairs. Lydia was waking up and, very quietly, asking from her mother. In front of her, Natalie noticed.

“Is something wrong?”

“She’s asking for you upstairs.”

“Thanks,” she replied, getting up quickly. “You know, I don’t know how your mother ever got any sleep with super hearing and three kids.”


	86. The Tell Part Six

They got into Allison’s car as the car park slowly began to empty itself. 

“Um, maybe this is a bad idea,” Allison said, biting her lip anxiously. “And my dad will kill me if he found out.”

“Do you always follow your dad’s rules?”

“Not lately,” she admitted and a smile broke out on her face. 

“Good. Start the car.”

“Where are we going?”

Scott caught sight of something in the rearview mirror. It was one of the police cars turning up to school. Logically he knew that he wouldn’t be in too much trouble if they were stopped from leaving the school, if whatever deputy was there even cared that they were bunking off for the day, but he panicked thinking that they knew he had been present at the attack the night before. Logic didn’t have very much influence on his mind when he saw the car, he knew in the back of his mind that he hadn’t even done anything, and Scott was already thinking about how he needed to escape. 

“Uh, I don’t know. Somewhere. Anywhere,” he replied quickly. 

“Nowhere that I could be seen, right?” Allison asked. “‘Cause I could get detention.”

Thoughts were racing through his head, places that would be safe for them both to hide. “Please start the car.”

“Or suspended.”

“Allison, car, start, now.”

The engine started and she easily pulled out of the parking spot before leaving the car park, thankfully not stopped by the police car. They drove down the road, Scott giving the occasional direction, and his phone was receiving a bunch of texts, so many that it seemed like it was constantly buzzing. It was in his bag but he didn’t think that Allison could hear it whilst she was driving. He knew that it was Stiles; no one else would text him so much in such a short period of time. After a little while, they drove into the entrance of the preserve, the public part of it. 

His phone rang, Stiles’ ringtone.

“What?” Scott asked as he dug his phone out of his bag and answered it.

“Finally! Have you been getting any of my texts?”

“Yeah, like all nine million of them.”

“Do you have any idea what’s going on? Lydia is totally MIA, Jackson looks like he’s got a time bomb inserted into his face, another random guy’s dead, and you have to do something about it.”

He figured that it made sense that Lydia wasn’t in school today because she had been present at a murder scene and seen a werewolf, though hopefully she didn’t know that last part. If that had happened to Scott, he might stay at home for the day as well. Admittedly, he had been bitten by Peter and went into school the next day but he definitely wasn’t thinking clearly. Jackson normally looked like there was a time bomb in his face but it was definitely going to be worse after finding a dead body and seeing a monster.

Scott just wasn’t sure what to do about that.

“Like what?” he asked disbelievingly. 

“Something,” Stiles told him. 

“Okay, I’ll - uh - I’ll talk about it when I go to work tomorrow,” he promised, remembering that he had a training session after work. Scott looked up as he hung up the phone and noticed that they were almost at the next turn. “Left, left, left, left, left!”

Allison quickly jerked the car to the side, her arm going protectively over his chest to stop him from shooting forward in his seat. She was a lot stronger than he was expecting, her hand pinning him in place. Once the car slowed down and was heading straight again, she moved her arm and settled back into her own seat. Scott picked up on the embarrassment that had suddenly flooded her scent. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she said. “I totally just soccer-mum’d you. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright, I’ll just pick up my masculinity on the way back,” he joked. It was enough to make Allison laugh. 

They continued down the path until they got to a bank where cars were allowed to park. Scott wasn’t actually sure if the banks were made there specifically for cars or if so many people had parked there over the years that the banks had been made by the cars. Either way, it was where people were expected to park now and Allison pulled into it to park the car. He zipped up his coat a little more as they got out of the car to protect him from the cold wind. Allison did the same thing. 

<>

Natalie had gone upstairs as Laura scratched Prada’s belly, holding the dog carefully in her lap. As much as she tried, she couldn’t block out the conversation the mother and daughter were having but she could do her best to ignore it, even as certain words stood out more than others. The dog was very happy to just lie there and be fussed over so Laura focused on that, scratching behind her ears when she got tired of the tummy rubs, and waited until Natalie came back down again. 

“Sorry about that,” she said. “The medicine she took, anti-anxiety, can make her a little out of it sometimes. I don’t like her using it for anything but something very big but … this is pretty big. And it might get a thousand times worse so if today can be a little easier for her, I don’t mind it. Prada not giving you any trouble?”

“Oh, she’s being a sweetheart. So long as she’s getting attention she’s hardly moved,” Laura replied casually. Natalie’s words certainly had a lot of truth about them. If Lydia was becoming a banshee with Peter still on the loose and with hunters in town, it was going to be a thousand times worse, at least, for an experienced banshee, yet alone a new one who probably wouldn’t understand what was happening to her at first. It was a wonder Natalie was coping as well as she was. Even without people being killed she would be able to hear how close everyone in town was to danger. 

“You know, I always thought that once we cut down the nemeton we wouldn’t have to deal with anything dangerous,” Natalie sighed. “Now I don’t even think it did anything at all.”

Laura knew the tree had been cut down when she was pretty young, before Derek had been born, and she knew that it was to stop anyone from using it for dangerous purposes. None of the packs in or around town needed it, there was no reason for a druid to need the strength it could offer or continue the sacrifices that had been stopped a good few generations before to give the tree strength. If she remembered correctly, they had been pretty close to the nemeton the night Peter attacked her and he certainly hadn’t used that. She shook off the thought and hoped that he wouldn’t think of some use for it. Even as a stump a strong enough sacrifice could cause chaos. 

“This isn’t really magic, not really. It’s just a group of people hurting each other and willing to hurt anyone else who might get in their way,” Laura said. 

“Has … has Peter bit anyone? He would be able to control them if he had, right?”

She wasn’t able to control her face before Natalie saw the answer.

“Who? No, no, don’t tell me, I don’t want to get anyone in trouble by accident whenever the Argents come over for Allison. But … are you able to help them?”  
“We’re - uh - we’re helping them, they’re doing okay,” Laura replied. 

“Do the hunters know? I mean, if they do, their code … they’re allowed to go after him without any restrictions now, aren’t they?”

“Pretty much, yeah. And now that he’s killing people and bringing attention to all of this they’re going to need to act as quickly as they can.”

“He’s killing randomly, though,” Natalie said thoughtfully. “Before the fire, he was always so particular about the things that he did, not that they were always good, but, I don’t know, do you think the fire did something to him?”

“He wants revenge, he’s made that clear, and whatever he’s doing he believes that it’s going to help him get that revenge,” Laura replied. She also didn’t think they were random at all.

A car, a loud one, was approaching the house, though Natalie couldn’t hear it yet, and its engine, something definitely wrong with it, sounded very familiar to Laura but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. When it pulled into the driveway Natalie noticed it and very quickly there were a few fast knocks. Laura knew exactly who it was at the door despite it being the middle of the school day and she knew for a fact that a sophomore wouldn’t be able to have a large enough break in their timetable. She also wasn’t sure that the kid in question had much of a connection to Lydia beyond arriving with his dad to the crime scene the night before.

Natalie got up and walked over to answer it, excusing herself. 


End file.
